Summer Nights
by Llybian Minamino
Summary: A collection of oneshots/vignettes/drabbles written for Beloved Enemy's 100 Nights of Summer Writing Challenge. Xellos/Filia
1. Exorcism

**Author's Note: **What? An update on Sunday? B-but that's the Lord's day! (and no, I don't mean the Lord of Nightmares)

Actually I'm finally starting up that Xellos/Filia oneshot collection I've always wanted in conjunction with Beloved Enemy's 100 Nights of Summer Writing Challenge! Hurray! If you write for Xellos/Filia, please think about joining in and trying some of the challenges. I've updated my profile with the link to the site, so check it out!

This fic will _not_ follow any specific update schedule, unlike my other ones. I'll update when I've got a new oneshot/vignette/drabble written (or more than one depending on length). And I might be doing a little 'sandbox creative writing' here by which I mean: trying out new ideas that I'm not entirely sure will work. Also, I've marked down the genre as 'Romance/Humor' because that's probably what most of these will be, but sashaying into other genres is not completely off the table.

Girl, you talk to much! Just get to the fic! ...Mmkay, here's the first one I've done. Theme #57: Exorcism.

* * *

**Exorcism**

It was the first house call of young Reverend Verily Rinderpest's career and he was terrified of screwing it up. He'd initially joined the clergy because he wanted a career in which he could avoid hard work and danger and stay indoors. His dull manner of speaking and social ineptitude made him useless on the pulpit and more trouble than he was worth in missionary work. So they'd transferred him to one of the temple's darker divisions. _The_ dark division, in fact. The one where holy water was your tea and you cut your teeth on silver bullets.

And now he was standing in the threshold of the home of Miss Filia Ul Copt. Everyone in Achaea knew her. She was the dragon girl who ran that lovely shop on the main street. As far as Verily understood it, dragons were the servants of the gods. But selling instruments meant for bashing other people's heads open hardly seemed holy to him. Although the vases were quite nice.

Verily clutched his scriptures to his chest as he looked around the shop-room anxiously. "Where umm…" he began, "Where does it… haunt?"

Filia gave him a questioning and somewhat sharp look. "He's in the den," she said, and began to lead him down a hallway.

_I'm not cut out for this_, Verily thought as he followed her down the hall. _I'm scared of the dark and still sleep with a square of the blanket I had when I was a baby. I'm the last person that should be standing against the forces of darkness_. He consoled himself with the elder Reverend Masis's admittance that most cases they'd be called for would end up as the product of overactive imagination. "Just go through the routine as writ, whatever the case. It's there for a reason," the old man had advised.

But this case seemed… odd. Even though he had no prior experience to really compare it to. It certainly hadn't been what he expected when he'd done the pre-interview with Miss Ul Copt. She'd gone into the temple one morning and, bold as brass, announced that she needed to see someone about getting an exorcism. So they'd carted her off to him.

As has already been indicated, socializing was not his forte, but he made an attempt. He'd been told that many people seeking intervention from the temple were likely to be in delicate emotional states. And with the reasons they generally had for getting the church involved: who wouldn't be? So he'd been very kind to her. He'd offered her a seat and given her a cup of tea in case her nerves needed to be calmed, and only then did he open his ledger and begin asking questions.

They were all pre-written out in standard forms. Clearly an exorcism form was needed… either 1A or 1B…

"Now, as I understand it, there's a demon you need us to get rid of?" Verily had asked in what he hoped was a commanding, in-charge voice that would convince his client that he was totally in control of the situation.

"Yes," Filia had said, taking a drink of her tea.

Right. Verily looked at the forms again. One was for expulsion from living beings and the other was for expulsion from physical locations. Of the two, the second tended to be difficult to permanently expel a spirit from, but the first tended to be the most dangerous for client and attending. He prayed it was the second.

"Now, is this demon inside of you?" Verily asked in what he hoped was a very sensitive way.

To his surprise, Filia spat out the gulp of tea she'd been drinking in one long spray, coughed and choked incessantly, and glared. After this display was over she finally turned to him and, in what he considered an oddly dark tone of voice, said: "He _wishes_."

"O-kay…" Verily said, not quite sure how to respond to this. "Then is the demon inside—"

"He's in my house!" Filia said impatiently, not wanting to hear the end of that question.

_Form 1B_ _it is!_ Verily thought, feeling the relief wash over him as he tossed the other form aside.

"Now… there's just one demon, is there?" Verily asked, realizing as he read the first question that he'd gotten a little ahead of himself by assuming that.

"One is enough," Filia said firmly.

Verily put a check in the appropriate box. "Have you noticed any poltergeist activity?"

Filia gave him a bewildered look.

"You know, things moving by themselves… things breaking," Verily prompted.

"I don't really think it's anything like that," Filia had said. "Although, a lot of my vases have been breaking," she added sourly.

Verily didn't see how that _didn't_ qualify as poltergeist activity, but didn't argue. "Has the demon ever spoken in tongues?"

"Not around me," Filia had said.

"Is your house by any chance built on the burial ground of some indigenous people?" Verily asked. Sometimes it's the simple things that can make your life a living hell.

She gave him a long, slow look. "I think," she finally said, "that you'd better just come down and see for yourself."

So Verily had. As he walked through the hall of Filia's house/shop he tried to steel himself by imagining all the possible horrors that could lurk in the shadows so that nothing would surprise him. He'd tried to think of clowns with claws; he'd tried to think of gurgling masses of flesh and teeth; he'd tried to think tentacled monstrosities; and for some reason he'd tried to think of a little girl turning her head around three-hundred-and-sixty degrees.

In any case, when he walked into the den and all he saw was a purple haired young man playing with a green haired toddler he was a little shaken by the unexpected normalcy.

"Oh," the man said, standing up as he noticed the arrivals into the room. "Do we have guests?"

"You shut up, Xellos!" Filia shouted, pointing a shaky finger at him. "Stop acting like you live here or something!"

He that was designated Xellos raised a sardonic eyebrow and looked from Filia to the Reverend and back to Filia again. "Filia, you're making a scene in front of company," he informed her.

"I'm not the one—" she began to explode, only to be cut off by Reverend Verily tugging at her sleeve. "What?" she snapped.

"Umm… Miss Filia," Verily began, looking around the room. "Where is the uh… the demon?"

Filia gave Verily the same look that his teacher's had given him when he confused scripture enough to think that the wages of sin was, in fact, eternal life. "He's right there!" Filia said, waving her hand at the purple haired man.

Verily turned his head and looked at the man, who simply smiled in an open and friendly manner. Then he turned back to Filia.

"_Him?_"

"Yes 'him'!" Filia thundered. "What? Do you really think I'd make this all up? Now just get going with the exorcism," she ordered.

"Exorcism?" Xellos repeated, furrowing his brow in confusion.

None of this seemed at all right to Verily. "You let a demon play with your child?" he asked incredulously.

"Xelly!" the child gurgled happily.

"I don't let him!" Filia said, offended, as she picked up her son. "He's a monster! What am I supposed to do about him?"

"Exorcism?" Xellos repeated again, in case no one had heard him the first time.

"Yes, exorcism!" Filia said, rounding on him. "What? Did you think I wouldn't do anything when you just decide to camp out in my house? What are you planning, you _monster?_"

Xellos shrugged. "Can't an old friend drop by for a visit without you calling in the holy water brigade?"

"Two weeks isn't just a visit," Filia countered.

"It's a long visit," Xellos said simply.

"You'd think you'd have better things to do with your time," Filia retorted.

"Better? Than seeing my favorite dragon?" Xellos asked, opening one eye in her direction in a kind of reverse wink. "Perish the thought."

Filia blushed, which Reverend Verily considered a little weird if the man in front of them was really a demon. "I-I'm not going to let you trick me," she said, averting her eyes.

Xellos laughed, and put a finger to his lips. "Yes you are," he said.

"Umm…" Verily said, feeling like he'd been forgotten. "Are we going to do the exorcism or not?" he asked.

"Yes," Filia said, at the same time Xellos said, "No".

They exchanged a look and then Xellos said, "Oh fine," as he collapsed into one of the chairs. "If it gives you any pleasure, Filia, then go ahead."

Filia looked back at Reverend Verily and gave an impatient gesture of her head that was the universal sign for: 'Get on with it!'

Verily coughed and checked his notes. _Ah, yes, first would be…_

_…Umm… this could be awkward._

Verily unrolled a scroll that had verses from scripture written all over it. He looked hesitantly at the man on the chair watching him like a cat. He shuffled forward and, all the while fearing that the man would suddenly sprout claws and disembowel him, he stuck the scroll to the man's forehead and immediately backed away.

The scrolls were infused with divine energy. They were supposed to purify everything they touched. But Xellos just looked up at the bit of paper in a cross-eyed sort of way. An optimist might say that maybe, _possibly_ there was a thin wisp of smoke issuing from where the paper touched him, but that was the extent of the damage. He picked it off himself as though it was a minor nuisance.

_Umm… alright… _he went back to his the written routine. When scrolls failed that meant it was time to go on to the litany. He turned to the appropriate page in his prayer book.

He looked up awkwardly for a bit of sunshine coming through a window for whatever hope it might bring him. This wasn't how he expected his first exorcism to go.

He coughed and said in his clearest, most holy voice: "Deliver us, oh Ceifeed from all sin, from all your wrath, from sudden and unprovided death."

"It sounds more like Ceifeed is the problem than me," Xellos commented idly.

Verily swallowed and tried to ignore this obvious bit of blasphemy. "From all snares of the demons; from anger, hatred and all ill will; from all lewdness—"

"Was _that_ what you had in mind, Filia?" Xellos said, giving her a wicked look.

"You—!" she began, too full of rage to take that sentence one step further.

"I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are," Verily went on, talking over them as loud as he could.

"Oh, it's Xellos," the man said brightly. "I don't think we were properly introduced." He extended a hand.

"Stop interrupting!" Filia snapped at him, slapping his hand away.

"By the mystery of the sacrifice of the great Ceifeed you shall leave this domicile and not return to harm any who dwell here. By all that is righteous I command you!" Verily asserted, his voice only breaking slightly in the process.

"…No," was all Xellos said. It wasn't a harsh 'no', it was more like a 'no thanks, I won't have a second slice of pie' type of 'no'.

Verily looked nervously from Xellos to Filia, who was tapping her foot impatiently, and then back down to his notes. _Alright… one thing left and that's holy water. Reverend Masis says it never fails_.

He flipped open the cap on the clear, crystal bottle and began swishing it back and forth in deeply religious patterns in Xellos's direction. The demon blinked as the water hit him.

"The power of Ceifeed compels you!" Reverend Verily declared. "The power of Ceifeed compels you! The power of Ceifeed compels you! The power of Ceifeed compels you!"

Xellos yawned to show that it didn't.

Reverend Verily looked at his now very empty bottle of holy water. It seemed like all he had done was possibly damage one of Filia's overstuffed chairs with the impromptu shower. _What do I do now?_ he asked himself, fear gripping him.

And then, he remembered Reverend Masis's words: 'Just go through the routine as writ, whatever the case. It's there for a reason.'

He took a deep breath and peered down at the end of the routine. "The, uh," he began awkwardly. "The house is now free of demons," he read.

Filia and Verily looked at each other, and then slowly revolved to look at Xellos, who smiled at them; then dragon and reverend looked back at each other.

"I'm not paying," Filia said flatly.


	2. Tea Leaves

Here I am again with theme #70: Tea Leaves.

**Tea Leaves.**

Filia had known that life wouldn't always be easy for a dragon living among humans. Hadn't she encountered places in her journeys where dragons were feared or completely forbidden? And even most otherwise kind and fair humans could have a tendency to be a little nervous around a creature that could breathe lasers and level buildings.

Thankfully, the thriving family community of Achaea had welcomed her with open arms. She had been treated with only the greatest courtesy since she arrived there with Jillas, Gravos, and Val in his little egg to set up shop. She had plenty of business and was surprised to find herself becoming a pillar of the community.

And that was the thing really. Because even though no one in Achaea thought ill of her for being a dragon, it did mean that she was… well, someone 'not quite like us'. The people of Achaea didn't consider this a _bad_ thing, in fact… there were times when hard up villagers needed people 'not quite like us'.

Most of the time this involved matters that humans really had no control over. Dragons had a stronger connection with the gods, and were known for their powers of prophecy. When the people of Achaea got uncertain, they knew that there was a dragon in town who might have the answers.

Filia accepted this with patience. Almost always what her inquiring visitors needed was not a prophecy, but an understanding ear to share their problems with and a little friendly advice. It was worth it to earn their esteem and sooth some of their worries. Plus it ensured that her status as someone 'not quite like us' didn't dip to the negative.

But Mrs. Babbage was another story entirely.

Mrs. Babbage was Achaea's florist; a heavy-set, sunny sort of woman who would blush to admit that she had left middle-age in the dust. She was a sweet lady, and wouldn't have normally been any trouble to anyone. But Mrs. Babbage had a _hobby_.

Filia should've heeded the signs, but she didn't. When she'd met Mrs. Babbage and the woman had gleefully informed her: "I'm a bit psychic, you know" Filia had just smiled to herself. An interest in divination was not at all uncommon and there were plenty of people like Mrs. Babbage that were under the impression that an overactive imagination was the same as a psychic gift. It was harmless.

So she'd taken Mrs. Babbage up on her invitation to tea and sat patiently through her long story about how the inner eye ran in her family. About how her great grandmother had predicted the Rautfian Solar Eclipse. It hadn't been her fault that she predicted it three days after it actually happened. The woman didn't get out much and hadn't been looking at the sky in any case. It was still uncanny.

But what Filia really had objected to was after the tea had been drunk and Mrs. Babbage insisted on a tea leaf reading. Filia didn't particularly care for those. The future she liked to see in a cup of tea was one that guaranteed a delicious, warm beverage. But she wasn't really in a position to refuse so she ventured her best guesses which Mrs. Babbage lapped up.

And then it had been Mrs. Babbage's turn to read Filia's. Mrs. Babbage had apparently just heard of tea leaf reading and was much worse than a novice. She'd mostly predicted brown blobs in Filia's future.

And ever since that day it had been impossible to shake Mrs. Babbage's attention. The woman had thrown herself into what she now referred to as _tasseomancy_. She'd researched and practiced in the cups of family, friends, and people who had just left their drink out in cafes. And she was raring to show Filia how much she'd improved.

Which was why Filia wasn't exactly thrilled when she opened the door to see the florist's eager looking face. "Mrs. Babbage?" she said helplessly.

"Afternoon, Miss Filia," Mrs. Babbage chirped brightly. "I said I'd be by for tea."

"Oh, right," Filia said wearily, setting down the large vase she'd been hefting. "It's Tuesday."

If Mrs. Babbage noted the not-so-thrilled tone in Filia's voice then she did a good job of hiding it. Filia sighed to herself. She felt obliged to indulge Mrs. Babbage. The woman clearly just needed a friend. And anyway, spending a half-an-hour pretending she was a fortune teller was probably a nice vacation from her day job.

"Come in, Mrs. Babbage," she said.

* * *

The conversation over tea was largely focused on one subject: Mrs. Babbage's ever growing collection. Apparently the woman had bought a beaded curtain for her tea room and a golden star chart that her husband had given her some trouble about buying. She'd also picked up another deck of tarot cards. That must make twenty by now.

She despaired at where to find an affordable crystal ball. There were pretty ones you could mail-order from magic shops all over the country, but they tended to be on the ridiculously expensive side. Abner wouldn't let her get one.

Filia wasn't a complete stranger to scrying. It was something that she had learned in the temple although dragons do not use it much, the reason being it's too easy for the monsters to tap into something like that to spy.

But she knew enough to say: "You know, you can actually get the same effect as a crystal ball in a basin of water with ink in it. That's much cheaper."

Mrs. Babbage had looked at her blankly. "Yes, but," she said, "without the crystal ball, then what's the point?"

Well, Filia couldn't argue with that logic. Mrs. Babbage hadn't started dabbling in fortune telling to do things without flair.

They finished their tea and the part of the meeting Filia had been dreading had arrived. She tried to minimize some of the trouble as the woman traded their cups by saying: "If you're trying to practice then why don't you just read both our fortunes?"

"Oh, but I can't," Mrs. Babbage said, looking aghast. "It's very dangerous to read your own fortune. It says so in Elder Rafu's Beginner's Guide to Tasseomancy," she said, holding up the book that she proudly told Filia that she'd sent away for from New Sairaag. Her brow furrowed. "Don't you know that?"

"Of course," Filia said quickly, deciding it was probably better not to challenge the woman's perception and keep her status as the inner eye of Achaea. "I was just testing you," she said, hoping the woman would buy this.

Mrs. Babbage beamed proudly, so it clearly worked.

Filia sighed and looked down at Mrs. Babbage's cup. _Why tea leaves? _she wondered. _It might as well be clouds_. She tilted the cup and adjusted her features into a look of concentration.

"Good news," she said, with a smile. "It looks like within the next year heaven will be blessing you with a new addition to your family."

Mrs. Babbage's face glowed. "Really?" she said happily. "What symbol tells you that?"

Filia didn't need tea leaves to make that prediction. There were advantages to having the entire town lay their troubles before you. And that was that you tended to know everything that was going on without messing around with any inner eye. And she was well aware that Mrs. Babbage's daughter Melinda was stepping out with the barber's son. It was really only a matter of time. The girl couldn't count.

"It's sort of looking at all the signs together," Filia hedged. "You know, like the big picture."

"Wow!" Mrs. Babbage said, impressed. "I can see I've got a lot of practice to do."

"Oh, no," Filia said. The last thing she needed was more tea dates with Mrs. Babbage. "There are a lot of different ways to do this. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Mrs. Babbage nodded and uncertainly took up Filia's cup. Then she remembered her role and said, in what she thought was a mysterious and ethereal kind of voice: "Now we will part back the mists of time and seek out your destiny."

Filia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she gave the woman an encouraging nod.

"The first thing I see," Mrs. Babbage said, peering in the cup, "Kind of looks like an animal… I think a wolf?" she turned a few pages in her book. "That stands for jealousy."

"What about jealousy?" Filia asked politely.

"What?" Mrs. Babbage said, turning uncomprehending eyes up to Filia.

"Well… will I be jealous of someone or will someone be jealous of me?"

Mrs. Babbage looked down at the book and then back at Filia. "It doesn't say. I suppose it just stands for… you know, general jealousy."

"Oh."

Mrs. Babbage looked back at the cup. "And… you've got an umbrella here," she looked down again, "that represents annoyance."

_I wonder_, Filia thought dully,_ what it would be like to have an annoying life._

"But wait," Mrs. Babbage said, frowning. She flipped a few pages and then looked up. "What's the difference between an umbrella and a parasol?"

Filia hadn't been expecting an impromptu vocabulary quiz. "Uh… is there a difference?" she asked.

Mrs. Babbage bit her lip. "It's just that… well, an umbrella does stand for annoyances, but a parasol represents a new lover. I'm just not sure which is which. So you're either going to have annoyances in your future or a new lover."

"Or an annoying new lover," Mrs. Babbage added as the thought struck her.

This was looking to be a dismal cup. Filia might have worried if she thought Mrs. Babbage had even a shred of psychic power.

"Does a triangle shape mean anything?" Mrs. Babbage asked, half to herself as she flipped pages. "Ah yes," she said, pointing at the relevant passage. "It means something unexpected is going to happen."

Perhaps her annoying new lover would show up and be jealous of something. Considering Mrs. Babbage's dearth of clairvoyance that _would_ be what Filia would expect least.

"And there's a wiggly line," Mrs. Babbage said, adjusting her new shawl. On the basis that 'wiggly line' probably wasn't an omen in any book she browsed through looking for a suitable substitute. "That's probably the snake," she said finally. "That means an enemy… but also wisdom?" She looked questioningly at the book.

"Well," Filia said with a fixed smile. "Forewarned is forearmed. Thanks for the reading, it's been lovely to see you but—"

"Wait," Mrs. Babbage said. "There's one more sign in the bottom of the cup." She flipped to the end of her book and frowned again.

"Well, it's not in the book," she said uncertainly. "But there's definitely like… an X at the bottom of the cup."

"I'm sure that's just—" Filia began, and then snapped her neck to look at the other woman, suddenly completely alert. "What?"

"Yes," Mrs. Babbage said. "It's very clearly an X." She looked a little uncomfortable. "Usually I have to squint and close one eye to see anything much," she admitted reluctantly, "but this is a very clear cup."

Filia snatched her cup back from Mrs. Babbage, ignoring the woman's protests of disturbing the fabric of space-time. She stared into it disbelievingly. Then set it down with some force away from her.

She looked up at the now slightly disconcerted Mrs. Babbage with determined anger in her eyes. "I'm making another pot.

* * *

Five pots of tea later – all of different kinds as if that would somehow help – and Mrs. Babbage was getting very edgy. She wanted to leave. The normally sweet and patient Miss Filia was starting to worry her. Plus she'd drunk much more tea than she ever wanted to.

Filia stared into yet another one of her own cups, ignoring the advice of Mrs. Babbage and Elder Rafu altogether. No matter what she did, it was always the same signs in the same arrangements, dangerously clear. Drawing together to create more specific meanings. _Mocking_ her.

"Umm… Miss Filia are you alright?" Mrs. Babbage tried.

But Filia didn't seem to be occupying the same realm as her guest anymore. And it was at that point that Rosemarie Babbage saw Miss Filia scowl darkly at her cup; hurl it against the wall in a shower of porcelain; and scream to the universe, Mrs. Babbage, and destiny in general:

"The tea leaves are _WRONG!_"


	3. First Kiss

Author's Note:

I'm back with theme #72: First Kiss. By the way, I've gotten used to doing annotations/commentaries for my other fics, so I'll be posting one up for these on my forum updating as I go along. I'll put the link in my profile, so if you're curious: check it out.

* * *

**First Kiss.**

It was shaping up to be another interesting journey for Lina Inverse and her band of friends, acquaintances, and sometimes-enemies. With Zelgadis tagging along to search for his cure, Amelia following to punish villains, Gourry following because he was epoxied to Lina at the hip, Filia joining in for a chance to find a lost tome about ancient dragons, and Xellos stalking them for his own unspecified purposes… well… there had already been a lot going on. And then they'd picked up Sylphiel along the way just to make things more complicated.

As it was, they were way over their shrine-maiden quota. Not only that, they were over their budget quota. Stretching a food budget to eight people (some of which had very large appetites) on misappropriated bandit booty was tough. Lina said that Xellos should help them out by not eating since, being a creature of darkness, he didn't need to eat human food. Xellos responded by saying that he liked eating human food, so there. Then _someone_ had called _someone _selfish and the result of the ensuing fight was that Filia was left to try to yank her mace out of the trunk of a tree it had somehow gotten lodged in.

But they were making the food thing work, mostly by cutting down to six courses per meal. It was a sad state of affairs. Near starving, practically. But they were getting by. The real problem had been rooms. Rooms in most inns were very expensive. Xellos always got his own room, but then again, he _paid_ for it. So with him out of the equation they needed at least two for propriety's sake. Gourry and Zelgadis didn't have such a raw deal in sharing a room. But for the girls… well, four people in one small room is pushing it a little.

It had been Amelia who had suggested in her optimistic sort of way that they treat it like a slumber party. It was a nice way to completely turn around the situation. After all, they were girls and half of them would be sleeping on the floor. They might as well pretend it was a party instead of a giant inconvenience.

So they'd busted out the nail polish and the hair things and made ready to have the best darn shot at a sleepover that they could manage. Lina had even scrounged up a cheap local snack. It was called… 'snapped corn' or something. It didn't really taste like anything so they'd melted butter over it reasoning that this couldn't possibly hurt. Lina was currently hogging the bowl while Sylphiel painted her toenails and Amelia begged the others to let her braid their hair.

There are certain… male ideas of what a gaggle of girls such as this might discuss. The subject matter largely includes boys and bra sizes. This is a negative stereotype. Groups of young women are just as likely to talk about sharecropping, corporate finance, and art history as they are to talk about romance and comparative physical development.

Nevertheless, they _were_ talking about boys in this case. But this is just a coincidence and shouldn't be taken for the norm.

"First kiss?" Filia repeated when the subject came up. "I haven't had one," she answered haughtily.

"What?" Amelia said in surprise.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Filia sniffed.

"I don't think it's hard to believe at all," Lina said through a mouthful of puffy corn kernels. Filia ignored her.

"It's just that," Amelia began uncertainly. "Well, haven't you been alive for like… hundreds of years?"

"Yes. And?" Filia asked, starting to feel a little under attack.

"And in all that time you never—"

"The dragon race," Filia cut her off, "is chaste and virtuous. I'm not about to kiss the first person I see!"

"I don't think she's saying that," Sylphiel said in her calm, dreamy sort of way. "Anyway, there's nothing wrong with kissing." She looked off into the distance and accidentally painted Lina's pinky-toe blue while she was distracted. "I remember my first kiss. I was eight and my friends and I were playing tag. Out of nowhere Murdo Vieben ran up and kissed me."

"What happened then?" Amelia asked.

"He ran away again," Sylphiel said simply.

After a pause, Filia asked: "Isn't that sexual harassment?" because she just had to take all the magic out of moments.

Sylphiel just shrugged. "How about you, Miss Amelia?"

"Oh," Amelia looked down. "Well I… that is… I never actually—"

"Waiting for a certain someone?" Lina asked archly.

Amelia blushed and didn't answer.

"_You_ were giving me trouble for not kissing someone when you haven't kissed anyone either?" Filia exclaimed. It stank of hypocrisy.

"Well, you're a lot older than me, Miss Filia," Amelia said. "And you're… well, I was just a little surprised is all. I didn't mean anything by it."

"There's no need to get defensive about it," Lina said.

"I'm not being defensive—" Filia began to shout back.

"What about you, Miss Lina?" Sylphiel asked with what Filia thought was altogether too much eagerness.

"What about what?" Lina said warily. You could tell she knew exactly what, but wasn't exactly keen on answering.

"You know. Your first kiss," Sylphiel prompted.

Lina looked away with an embarrassed and irritated expression. This wasn't surprising considering this wasn't a subject she was at all at home with talking about. But Filia thought something in her expression went beyond miffed and uncomfortable and into the territory of teeth-grindingly pissed off.

"Oh fine," she said, slamming down the metal snack bowl on the floor with a _giiiooong_ sound. "If you must know, it was Xellos."

* * *

Miles away, on the other side of town, the local craft union was having its semi-annual midnight house of cards contest. Prestige and a solid gold-painted trophy were on the line. These were serious men who prided themselves on their meticulousness, proficiency in their craft, and above all: steady hands. This was about more than building houses out of cards. This was about building destinies.

The sound came from out of nowhere. Its waves decimated the neighborhood of cards with such ease that it buried an apprentice up to his knees in paper. It sounded like…

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!"

* * *

The room was in disarray. The windows had cracked and pictures had fallen off the wall. But no one was really paying attention to that. A towering dragon, shaking with rage is the focal point of any room.

"Calm down!" Lina said, waving her hands at her. "Geez, do you want to wake up the whole town?"

Filia's nostrils flared as she took in hulking gulps of air. She had so many enraged questions she wanted to ask that she didn't even know where to start, especially since most of them were just variations on her earlier 'What' outburst with different numbers of a's, exclamation points, and question marks. So she settled for a shrill, and still too loud demand of: "When was this?"

"A couple years ago when we were going after the Claire Bible," Lina answered.

"Oh, that's right. When he first traveled with us. I remember," Amelia said lightly, as if this wasn't some big, earth-shattering deal.

Filia wasn't sure at this point whether the best way to cope with this would be to punch a hole in the wall or just weep for the awfulness of the world.

"Oh, Miss Lina!" Filia cried mournfully, on the edge of bursting into angry sobs. "How could you have let yourself be seduced by that—"

"Whoa! _Whoa!_ Hold up!" Lina said, sounding thoroughly insulted. "I didn't let myself get seduced by _anyone_. You think I _like_ that that creep kissed me? Are you _kidding me?_" She ran her hand irritably through her hair. "Trust me: no one is more upset about this than I am."

Looking at Filia's expression… this was very hard to believe.

"But to let that… that _monster_ of all things—" Filia began in a horrified manner.

"We didn't know he was a monster at the time," Lina said. "That's why he did it. When I was getting close to figuring him out, he did it distract me." _It worked too. Slimy prick_.

"It was on the cheek if that makes you feel any better," Amelia said in a comforting, I-sincerely-think-I'm-helping kind of way.

"It doesn't!" Filia shot back, although it did dampen down the images circulating through her head without permission.

"Look," Lina said, "can't we just drop the subject?" She thought desperately for something to derail the current topic. "Hey Amelia, why don't you braid my hair now?"

"Umm… sure," Amelia said, still looking at Filia like she might explode any minute.

For her part, Filia was staring at the wall as though contemplating especially bloody murder. Then suddenly she slammed her fist down on the floor, stood up, and declared to the room at large: "He's not going to get away with this!" before storming out of the room.

The door crashed shut, its hinges moaning and nearly parting company with the wall.

"Oh brother," Lina said, letting her head fall into one of her hands.

"So… umm… is Mister Xellos Miss Filia's boyfriend?" Sylphiel asked as she'd just joined up with the group and was a little behind on developments.

"Not… really," Amelia answered.

"What does she think she's doing?" Lina asked, throwing up her hands.

"I don't think Miss Filia's thinking at all," Amelia said slowly.

"Well, if she doesn't come back then I get her pillow," Lina said sullenly. It wasn't that she didn't _care_ what happened to her friend. It was just that they'd only been able to get four pillows per room and she needed at least two to herself to be comfortable. She was being _practical_, not selfish.

* * *

_That evil, evil, EVIL piece of garbage!_ Filia thought wildly as she stomped through the halls of the inn, pumping her arms furiously. _Stupid Xellos and his stupid haircut and his stupid staff and his stupid cloak and his stupid yellow turtleneck and his stupid gloves and his stupid smile and his stupid finger-wagging and his stupid STUPID… purpleness!_

Filia was a bit too far gone to realize she was getting incoherent at this point. All she knew was that there would be retribution. If Xellos thought he could just casually whisk Miss Lina over to the dark side then he had another thing coming!

She reached his door and was barely able to keep herself in check enough to not knock with her mace. She didn't want to have to pay the innkeeper for property damage, so she contented herself to a very sharp, very angry sounding, she thought: _Knock! Knock!_

After awhile, a voice from within said: "Who's there?"

Filia grit her teeth. This wasn't the start of a joke because she would _so like to kill him_. "It's me, now get out here!"

The door opened to reveal Xellos. Or, in Filia's mind, opened up to reveal _the stupid, evil bastard who called himself Xellos_. He looked her up and down curiously. "Rude," was all he said.

"Oh, don't even give me that!" Filia snapped. "I _know_ what happened. I know you kissed Miss Lina and you're not going to get away with it!"

Xellos had the nerve to look upwards and to the side as though he was trying to remember something. "I did?"

"Don't play innocent!" Filia yelled. "You _know_ that trick doesn't work on me."

"Oooh, I think I remember now," Xellos said, memory returning as if by magic. "A few years ago. Twice. On the cheek." He gave her a questioning look. "Does that even really count?"

Filia wasn't in any position to have a debate about when a kiss counted as a kiss. Her world was entirely filled up with one word. _TWICE?_ Miss Lina hadn't thought to mention that for some reason! And now Filia _really_ needed to hit something. Unfortunately, Xellos would definitely dodge. So she settled for stamping her foot. It was childish, but necessary.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Filia said accusingly.

Xellos raised an eyebrow. "What am I doing?"

"You're—" Filia struggled to put her suspicions into words. She rallied on a surge of anger. "You just think you can go around with your Mister Nice Guy routine and then act all evil like you _really are_ all of the sudden and confuse everyone so that they think you're… you're… _interesting_ or something!"

Xellos was quiet for a moment. Then he said: "_I_ think that, do I?"

"Well, it won't work!" Filia declared, ignoring his question. "You won't seduce Miss Lina to the Monster race's side as long as I'm around!"

Xellos reached a gloved finger up to scratch at his hair, seemingly embarrassed to be in the presence of such misplaced exuberance. "If you ask me, it sounds like you're jealous."

Filia made a sound that wasn't a known word in either human or dragon. "You've got a lot of nerve," Filia finally said dangerously, "to suggest I'd join the monster race's side. I would sooner _die_."

Xellos's eyes were still squinted shut, but Filia had been around him long enough to be able to tell when he was rolling his eyes under their lids. "Not _that_. You're jealous of the kiss."

"I am _not!_" Filia shot back immediately. In some ways that suggestion was even _worse_.

Xellos's eyes opened and his grin broadened. "If you wanted me to kiss you, Filia, you just had to ask."

"I don't! I'd rather—" but exactly what Filia would rather do was cut off as, to her horror, she realized he was moving closer toward her. "What are you—? Don't you dare!" But she was already in his arms.

The sentence 'she was already in his arms' should encompass a sultrier scene than this. He _was_ holding her, dipped slightly so that her long blonde hair flowed away from her. All in all, that pose could grace the theatre poster of any epic romantic play (preferably one involving plantations and war), but it was somewhat marred by Filia stretching her arms out as far as they could go and pushing his face away from hers.

"Filia, you're really ruining the mood," Xellos commented, sounding slightly muffled since her hand was pressed in an extremely unfriendly way against his cheek.

"Let me go!" Filia demanded, perhaps unaware that if he complied then she would fall crashing to the floor. "It didn't work on Miss Lina and it's not going to work on me so just… leave me alone!"

Xellos stared at her, looking for a moment slightly frustrated. "You're really angry about me kissing Miss Lina, aren't you?"

Well, _duh!_ "Of course I am!" Filia shouted. "How could I not be?"

"But don't you think you're a little… disproportionately angry?" he asked.

"What?"

"I mean, I've done much worse things and you haven't been as mad," he pointed out.

"Name one!" Filia retorted.

"I can name at least twenty off the top of my head," Xellos said. "Really, kissing a human girl on the cheek barely counts as a misdemeanor."

"You're trying to charm one of the greatest sorceresses in the world into working for you! That's _not_ just a misdemeanor!" Filia declared. _Not by a long shot!_

"Look," Xellos said, frustration now definitely seeping into his voice. "I don't know what sort of nonsense you have floating around in your overheated little dragon brain, but I'm going to say this as clear as I can: I have absolutely no designs on 'charming' Lina Inverse into the service of the monster race. It would be troublesome for me and most likely would not actually succeed. I kissed her because I didn't want her to find out that I was a monster at the time. That was the best way to accomplish that because Miss Lina is easy to distract like that."

"Though," he added ominously, "not nearly as easy as you."

"W-what are you talking about?" Filia asked, unable to break eye-contact.

"Not where we started, are we?" Xellos pointed out laughingly.

Filia whipped her head around. _That sneak!_ They'd started out right in front of his door, but now they were nearly at the opposite wall on the other side of the hallway. He must have been creeping them forward slightly while she was focusing on the conversation.

He pushed her against the wall, breaking down the distance between them that she'd tried so hard to maintain. Now he was much too near her. She'd complained about him invading her personal space in the past, but this was more than just an invasion. This was an… an… extended occupation or something! Her breath was only coming in short gasps because he was pressed in so close to her. If you wanted to find a space where there was an inch between them, it would be very hard to find a place to insert the measuring tape.

"Why would you do this?" she breathed.

His lips slightly grazed her forehead. "Because you're practically begging me to."

"No," Filia managed to get out. Even in the current… admittedly dizzying situation, she found his penchant for twisting reality to suit his own purposes aggravating. "I'm telling you not to. That's the _opposite_."

"Your grand delusions speak for themselves," Xellos said, lowering himself down to her eye level. "You'll spin any lie to yourself to avoid your jealousy," he said, lips moving in closer to hers.

"You have no _right_," Filia hissed.

And for some reason, that stopped him in his tracks. Filia certainly hadn't expected it to, but it did. "What?" he said.

"A kiss is supposed to be an expression of affection and… love," Filia said, unsure why she was suddenly whispering. "And you're not capable of something like that. You have no _right_," she said again.

He hesitated for a minute, brows furrowing 'til they met in the middle, then brushed his lips almost gently against hers. She shivered visibly and… audibly. He seemed to take that as a cue to continue and… kissed her.

She was kissing Xellos. The monster. The bad guy. The one that had killed thousands of her people. The even-if-you-take-all-that-away-he's-still-unpleasant guy. And she was _kissing him_.

No. No, no, no, no, _no_. _He_ was kissing _her_. That's an important distinction to draw! She hadn't wanted this! This hadn't been on her agenda when she's stormed down to his room in a rage… late at night… in her nightgown…

Well, it _hadn't_ been a jealous rage, no matter what he said.

…It just might have looked that way. Coincidentally.

As for the kiss itself, how it felt and what it meant to her… that was a matter between Filia and her diary. All that's clear was that, after the seconds had stretched to infinity, Xellos broke away, pulled back from her and said: "Well… now you don't have to be jealous anymore."

And then Filia slid down the wall and crumpled gracelessly to the floor.

* * *

_Stupid Xellos_, Filia thought not for the first time that night as she trudged down the hallway and back to her room. She'd fallen down because she hadn't gotten her balance when he pinned her against the wall and when he suddenly pulled back and she'd had to stand on her own, she hadn't been able to keep her footing. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation and should've been damn well good enough for Xellos.

It didn't have anything to do with her… _swooning_ over him or anything so ridiculous.

But try telling Xellos that. Try telling him _anything_.

And now he seemed to have gotten this… crazy idea into his head about her. It was madness, it was anarchy, worst yet: it was _blasphemy_. Things were so bad that they'd gone on the far side of bad and all the way back around and out into…

She paused to slap a little sense into her face. _Don't you dare start taking this seriously_, she warned. _You know he's just messing around with you because he can. Don't be the suggestion-prone, overemotional creature he thinks you are_.

And that means absolutely to dwelling on it, she decided. No replaying the events in your mind over and over again. No blushing and looking away when he looks at you. No dreaming. No imagining. And _definitely_ no touching your lips and looking dramatically into the distance. If these rules are followed, then there's nothing to worry about.

She took a deep breath. _I can do this!_ She opened the door to the room she was sharing with the others content that all could be well in the world again.

Amelia had long since braided both Lina and Sylphiel's hair. Sylphiel had curled up in her blanket and fallen asleep and Amelia and Lina had just been discussing whether to indulge in another sleepover favorite (such as Interrogation or Peer Pressure, the freezing of an unwary companion's underwear, or raising the dead) or just give up and get some sleep. They looked up when she appeared in the doorway.

Filia tried to look nonchalant and utterly failed. She coughed and kept her expression neutral as she made her way toward her makeshift sleeping bag on the floor and picked up her pillow which had somehow ended up on Lina's bed. _Please just let me get to sleep without anyone saying anything_.

"So," Lina said slowly. "Your first kiss would be… with Xellos?"

"Oh, shut up!" Filia said, hurling her recently relocated pillow at Lina.


	4. Guilty

A/N: I've been itching to write this one from the start. Them #78: Guilty.

* * *

**Guilty.**

It's a bit hard to juggle the responsibilities of being a princess with life on the road. But Amelia was managing. The only way she'd been able to talk her father into letting her join in with Miss Lina, Mister Gourry, Mister Zelgadis, Miss Filia and Mister Xellos during the busy legislative session was to keep in contact. She'd send a carrier pigeon out with the addresses of every place they intended to stay at and for how long, updating with new information as she went along. This allowed her to still send and receive mail. In this way she was allowed to keep adventuring while signing treaties, corresponding with law-makers, and casting votes. Every night she'd dread the mail that would be plopped at her place at the table with piles of tedious paperwork. Then again, it also brought…

A rectangular package was placed before her place that night at dinner with a familiar return stamp across it. She smiled. Not only was there no paperwork tonight, but this was an added bonus. Her smile faded as she looked around tentatively at her dining companions. She tried to slip the package furtively under her chair.

"What's that, Amelia?" Lina asked, looking up from her spaghetti.

Amelia lamented her fate. Why couldn't Miss Lina have just been totally focused on her food like usual? "It's… nothing," she said.

But it was too late. Lina snatched the package out of her hand. "What's the Jester Publishing Club?" she asked curiously, reading the label. "Some kind of book-club?"

"Yes," Amelia said quickly, deciding that this was both true and non-incriminating. "It's just a book of the month club," she said hurriedly, as she tried to take the parcel back.

"What? Like a funny book club?" Lina asked, wondering at the publishing house's name.

Amelia hesitated here. She really didn't want to tell a direct lie. On the other hand… _on the other hand it's none of Miss Lina's business!_ "Yes," she said.

"It's not," Zelgadis said, and to Amelia's horror he was rolling his eyes. "That's a romance novel company."

"What, you mean like those… I don't know," Lina trailed off. "Those books where the top part of the lady's dress is always torn?"

"Bodice-rippers," Zelgadis said gravely.

Lina made an _ugh_ face. Then she looked suspicious. "How would you know about that?"

"I spend a lot of time in book shops," Zelgadis said sharply. "You notice these things."

"So is it true?" Lina said, turning to Amelia. "You're part of this bodice-ripper book of the month club?"

Amelia had an agonized look as though she'd like to disappear and muttered noncommittally.

"Huh," Lina said. She really wouldn't have expected it from Amelia. _I mean_, she thought, _these are… **girl** books. Well, I guess that works out since Amelia is a girl. And so am I. Not that I'd actually read those things_.

"They're awful books," Filia said vehemently, taking a self-righteous swig of her tea. "We never allowed them in the temple because their full of lewd material, negative gender stereotypes, and malicious misuse of thesauruses."

"Malicious what?" Gourry repeated.

"Oh, I don't know," Xellos stepped in, because he liked to take the point of view opposite Filia. "They might not be especially intelligent, but everyone has their guilty pleasures."

"I don't," Filia said automatically.

"Really? Let's take a vote." Xellos looked around the table. "Whoever believes Filia: raise your hand."

Everyone was suddenly too engrossed in their meals to vote for anything. Filia seethed.

"Well, I _don't_," she said sulkily.

"Who cares?" Lina said. "Books are about escapism. People can read what they want," she said.

She looked down at the package speculatively. "You know, I used to make fun of these books a lot when I was younger," she said wistfully. "They're really funny if you just look at them right."

"Miss Lina, please!" Amelia said. She had already been embarrassed enough for one day. She didn't need things rubbed in further.

"Oh, come on. It's harmless. Anyway," Lina said, throwing in a wink, "you're not part of any romance book of the month club, right? This came to you by accident."

"Umm… yeah," Amelia said, thankful for this rather cheap lifeline.

"I refuse to support smut," Filia said, crossing her arms in a very definite manner.

"Oh, come on," Xellos nudged. "You don't know it's that bad until you open it."

"I'm with Filia on this. Some of these books can be pretty tasteless," Zelgadis said, but he didn't make eye-contact with Amelia as he said it.

"I wanna at least look at it," whined Lina. "Anyway, like Xellos said: you don't _know_ it's bad."

"Oh, like we should take a monster's advice on morality," Filia commented acerbically. _I believe that's **my** area,_ she thought.

"They just send random books so there's no telling what it'll be about," Amelia said. Then she remembered her role and added: "I mean: I bet that's what they do."

"Well, I don't care what you guys say. I wanna see it," Lina said. "These are always worth a laugh."

She unwrapped the packing and opened the box within. Amelia looked over her shoulder as Zelgadis made a great show of looking the other way, while keeping one eye nonchalantly on the box. Filia had actually turned her chair to face in the opposite direction from the sinful material. Unfortunately this meant she was facing Xellos. And he was even more sinful material. He smiled at her. So she looked off to the side with a "Hmmph!" And Gourry, perhaps making the wisest decision of all: concentrated on eating as many meatballs as he could.

"What the—" Lina began in shocked surprise, looking at the cover.

"Do they—" Amelia began disbelievingly.

They exchanged a look and nodded. Then, as one, Lina, Amelia, and Zelgadis turned to look at Xellos.

"What?" he asked.

"Umm… it's just that… well, the people on the cover look a little…" Amelia began, hemming and hawing.

"They look just like you and Filia," Lina blurted out in a completely non-diplomatic manner.

"What?" Filia shrieked, accompanied by the sound of her chair crashing to the floor as she stood up, elbowed Amelia aside and glared at the cover.

It was… true. It was remarkably, horrifyingly, and infuriatingly true. A girl with long blonde hair in a style very similar to Filia's was silhouetted against the illustrated moonlight. A revealing white dress clung to the woman's body and, yes, was ripped in several highly convenient places. She was being suspended in the arms of a man that…

She nearly choked in rage.

Yes. A man in a black cloak with a smug looking smile and very familiar bone-structure. He was even wearing gloves.

Of course, it wasn't by any means perfect. There were certain… clear differences. The man's hair was black and messier. And Filia's breasts were not quite as big as the ones the woman on the cover was sporting. Plus she'd never wear a dress like that.

And of course it couldn't be them because _they'd never in a millions years do anything like that_. It was a book. A fiction. A cheap knock-off of real life with added moonlight and balcony scenes!

"You look good in white," Xellos commented, suddenly over her shoulder.

Filia gritted her teeth. "That's not me," she said.

"Well, obviously," Zelgadis said. "It's a book."

"But it's a pretty weird coincidence," Lina said, rubbing her chin in thought.

Filia took another look at the dramatically-posed cover. She narrowed her eyes at it as if she could intimidate it. "It doesn't even look that much like us," she announced. _Absolutely_, she thought. _My initial thought that it looked like us was all wrong. It doesn't even… the faces are all… well, it's wrong. That's all._

"What's it called?" Gourry asked, abandoning his spaghetti just long enough to ask a pertinent question.

Amelia looked up at the top of the book. "_Forbidden Desires_," she said.

"How very appropriate," Xellos said cheerfully.

Filia glowered. The only forbidden desire she felt was the one to connect her elbow in a painful manner with his jaw. "What kind of hack piece of garbage goes around calling itself _Forbidden Desires_?" she asked harshly.

"Well, let's see," Lina said, flipping to the inside cover. "'_Forbidden Desires',_" she read. "'The scorching love story of a young shrine-maiden-in-training named Millia whose world is forever changed when she meets the dark sorcerer Serros. The sorcerer promises to teach Millia the dark craft in order to raise her younger brother from the dead. But by the time she learns enough will she have already fallen too deeply into darkness to ever escape? Will she see the light in time, or will her heart, soul, and body be irredeemably corrupted?'."

Amelia was actually started to feel a little relieved that her book had been snatched away. The romance genre was always a crap-shoot. And this time it seemed that the shoot had turned out, well… crappy. And luckily it seemed that all the embarrassment was off her and squarely on Filia.

"That's," Filia paused to take a deep breath. If she thought this would calm her down then she was mistaken. "That's the worst piece of drivel I've ever heard!"

"I've heard _worse_," Xellos commented.

"You want me to read some of it?" Lina asked Filia with an evil glint in her eye. Filia had prevented Lina from ordering a sixth pie last night. It was payback time.

"No!" Filia shouted.

"What do you think, Xellos?" Lina asked, knowing where her bread was buttered when it came to mischief.

Xellos shrugged. "I don't see why not," he said.

"I can give you about a _million_ reasons why not!" Filia responded furiously.

But Filia never got a chance to share any of those reasons. "'She could feel Serros's hot breath against her neck as she tried to focus on the ancient inscription in front of her'," Lina read from somewhere near the middle of the book as Filia froze. "'Don't,' she said. 'Leave me alone you evil enchanter! I'm only going to use this magic to save my brother. I won't fall prey to your dark ways!' but it was a hollow threat. Already her body shivered and twitched against her will as he ran a hand down her side, resting it possessively against her waist'."

Filia _was_ twitching. Well, her eye was at least. She was trying to get it together for long enough to avenge this _act of evil_, but she was almost too angry to do anything.

"'He turned her around and she peered helplessly into his amethyst eyes, lost in the eternal darkness of galaxies within'," Lina went on theatrically. "'Her body practically begged her mind to give in just this once. If not now, then when? To surrender everything she had to him in one never-ending, passionate—'"

"Alright, that's _it!_" Filia yelled, finally having had enough. She seized the book from Lina's grip with all the formidable strength of a dragon. "We're not going to indulge in any more of this putrid poison for the mind!" she announced. "It's disgusting, totally unrealistic, and—"

"I thought it sounded a bit like you," Xellos commented mildly.

"IT DID NOT!" Filia screeched back. She was barely able to restrain herself from literally throwing the book at him. But she didn't particularly want him to have it. In fact _no one_ should have it.

She stomped over to the refuse bin and threw the book with more force than necessary at the pile of potato peelings and rancid lettuce. "There!" she declared. "Now it's in the trash where it belongs. No pleasures should be _that_ guilty!"

Amelia frowned. She hadn't paid membership to that book club to have her books thrown into the garbage by irate dragons.

"Nobody is to mention that book _ever_ again," Filia said warningly.

"What book?" Gourry asked, who hadn't been totally following this.

"_Forbidden Desires_," Xellos answered promptly.

"Oh, yeah. I heard you guys talking about that," Gourry said as Filia stewed in her anger. "What's it about?"

"Well, there's this—" Xellos began.

"Shut UP!" Filia snapped. "It's about nothing! Now please everyone just finish your food and go to bed!" she ordered, her voice getting strained and on the edge of a tantrum. She exited for her room in a well-executed huff.

"Killjoy," Lina said succinctly.

* * *

Later that night when all was dark and still in the dining room of the inn, a shape crept through the darkness. It was doing its best to be quiet and unobtrusive. As a result of the general malignancy of the universe, every floorboard in its path made a loud squeaking noise under its feet.

It snuck over to the garbage can and carefully opened the lid as though the contents within might explode at any second. It reached inside and rummaged for something within in a raccoon-like manner. It seemed to have retrieved its prize as it tucked it under its arm. Then it made a mad, quiet dash for the stairs barely daring to breath.

Only when the figure had completely vanished up the flight of stairs did a voice from the darkness say: "Well. Isn't this an interesting development?"

* * *

Filia had laid the rescued book out on her bed and was running her eyes rapidly across the text-laden pages. She'd delivered it from the squalor of the trashcan and squirreled it away. And that might seem… wrong. But it wasn't.

See, she had absolutely no desire (forbidden or otherwise) to read the thing. She wasn't the least bit curious about what it contained. In fact, she was only a chapter or two in and it was terrible going. It was a real struggle to keep reading the flowery tripe that stank up the pages. But she had to, you see?

Because the book was _clearly_ utterly malignant and totally inane. Yet books like that had a strange power over some people. _Guilty Pleasures, Xellos had said_. Something like that couldn't be allowed to just rot in the trash can. It was an important teaching tool! If she read it then she'd be so overcome with disgust over it, that she'd never even have the slightest interest in reading anything of its kind again. Plus, she could better understand the sway these things held over other weaker individuals and persuade them otherwise.

But the others clearly wouldn't see the sense in that. They'd get all sorts of _ideas_. Which was why she had to read it in secret.

_Millia had caught a glimpse of him that day; the man the elders had warned her to stay away from. He was tall with hair cropped just above his shoulders in a look that was both attractive and timeless. His cold eyes flashed into her very heart. She was afraid, and even angry that he would dare to step foot on the holy ground of temple. But yet… she couldn't help but feel something else when she looked at him… something new…_

As Filia had found herself doing many times throughout the story, she flipped back to the cover where the man with the smoldering eyes held the woman in his arms. In the flickering candlelight it seemed his smile broadened.

"Tch," Filia said, and went back to the text.

* * *

_His lips pressed silkily against hers as she couldn't help but feel her own lips part, ready to succumb in every way to his touch. She moaned shamelessly into his kiss as he reached down to fondle her breasts. She knew that it no longer mattered if the temple closed, or if she lost her status as a shrine maiden, or even if her brother remained in that cold, lifeless casket forever. Everything that really mattered was happening in the present. Not the past and not the future. His questing hand left her breasts, sliding down her stomach, past her bellybutton and…_

_ "Serros," she breathed, desire thronging through every vocalization. "At least take the gloves off first."_

"Disgusting," was all Filia said. Then she licked her thumb and turned the page.

* * *

The whole thing. She'd read the whole thing from start to finish. She'd stayed up for _hours_ and she'd be exhausted in the morning, but she'd read it all.

And it _had_ been lewd. There _had_ been negative gender stereotypes. And it certainly used words like 'Heaving', 'Pulsating', and 'Tumescent' significantly more often than Filia was comfortable with.

And the characters had just been… ugh. By all accounts Millia was a selfish, childish, hypocrite who thought about sex _way more_ than she should and way more than she'd admit. As for Serros, well, he was just a vessel for sardonic one-liners who spent most of his time sexually-harassing the main character. Filia wasn't sure which one of them she hated more.

And now Filia was sure of it: she couldn't throw this book away.

She'd planned to just put it back in the trash can after properly appreciating its revoltingness. But now she knew she couldn't. It was… well, she needed to keep it. It was just the right thing to do. It would be a… a reminder that she could keep with her always of how easy it is to let oneself fall to guilty pleasures.

But the others wouldn't understand her completely morally sound reasoning for keeping the book. They'd totally misinterpret it. So she'd have to make some sort of cover to go over it, since removing its current cover was out of the question.

She looked back down at the cover for about the hundredth time that night. It was beginning to be etched in her head.

"Doesn't even look like us," she said out loud and somewhat doubtfully.

And then, in a louder more confident voice she rhetorically asked: "What kind of hack even writes crap like this?"

_Hey, that's a good question actually_, she thought, and looked down at the cover again. She'd mostly focused on the picture and hadn't really looked at…

**Forbidden Desires: A Novel By Lex Sol**

_Lex Sol? What an appropriately ridiculously made-up sounding pen-name for such a stupid piece of…._

_ …What a minute…_

_ Lex Sol. Lex Sol. Xel…_

Filia took a deep breath, her face red and furious. She threw her head back angrily into the night and screamed: "XELLOS!"


	5. Dwelling On It

**Author's Note: **I got this idea while writing _Theory and Practice_, and it was also bouyed by some lines from gingersnapper's challenge responses. So here it is: ill-advised or not! Theme #93: Dwelling On It.

* * *

**Dwelling On It. (Or: Filia's Really Gone Crackers This Time)**

_Oh gods, I want to touch his hair._

The thought burst through Filia's mind like an illegal firework. She glowered at the back of Xellos's head as they walked along. Now the pretty lights of the thought were done and the crackle of guilt was sounding as the sparks of compulsion descended and went out.

As an extended metaphor it wasn't all Filia had hoped it would be. But the fact was, she wasn't entirely sure how it had come to this point. Really, how do you go from 'Filthy monster; I hate him!' to 'Oh gods, I want to touch his hair'?

By the way, she didn't take back any of that first impression. He _was_ a filthy monster. And she _did_ hate him. She just really wanted to touch that filthy, hateable monster's hair. That made sense, right?

No. Not even a little.

It wasn't even that she _liked_ his hair! She didn't! Really! Actually, the fact that she loathed it so much was probably to blame for this whole thing. Indeed it had been one of her first impressions of him. She couldn't help wondering at the time, in a sort of muted, horrified way, if the creature that embarked on a solo-genocide of her people could _really_ go around with a haircut that stupid.

_I mean_, she thought, _can't he decide how he looks? He's got some pretty weird tastes if that's the case._

And purple? Don't even get Filia started on purple. She used to _like_ purple. Now purple was the enemy.

And do you know, this was probably where the problem started. Yes, she had disliked his hairstyle (along with every other aspect of him thank-you-very-much), but she'd… she'd _dwelt on it_. She shouldn't have done that. She'd just kept _thinking_ about how ridiculous it was and how he couldn't possibly think it looked good or inspired any sort of respect at all and…

…And somewhere along the line she'd started thinking how she'd like to touch it. Just once.

Filia would've pointed out at this time, though she'd think this so obvious as to be a bit unnecessary, that there was _absolutely nothing,_ in any way, shape, or form, sexual about this desire. Because just… ugh. It was Xellos. That's all the evidence she really needed against that claim.

Anyway, a person could have completely non-sexual reasons to want to touch someone's hair. Filia was sure it happened all the time. …Like… hairdressers.

Or, and Filia was much happier with this example, little boys! Yes! It was very much like that. Little boys often got the urge to pull of pigtails of little girls that they certainly didn't like at all. And every knew there was nothing at all sexual about—

…Filia didn't like this example so much anymore.

Anyway, it didn't matter that she couldn't come up with an equivalent example for her situation. _She_ knew that there was nothing untoward at all about it and that was all that really counted.

She'd felt this way back in the Dark Star days, but then she'd split off from the group to carve out a living in the mace and vase making business and all was well. Now she was back with Lina Inverse's traveling side-kick brigade again at least for a short time and she was having to face _him_ again. And she clearly wasn't dealing well.

She glared again at the figure walking in front of her. Stupid monster… leading innocent women to their doom with his ridiculous, yet strangely attractive hairstyle…

The sun shone through the trees and his hair seemed to shimmer slightly in a way that you wouldn't notice unless you were maniacally focused on it. Which Filia was.

She grit her teeth. Her palms itched. She knew that if she really lost her marbles and reached for his hair there would be no way to explain her actions to the others. She couldn't even explain it to herself that well.

She took a deep breath. _When all else fails: bluster_. She reached out a hand and…

…Navigated past him and to the line walking in front containing Lina and Gourry. "Out of my way, you monster!" _Ha. This plan is foolproof_.

"Well excuse me," Xellos answered dryly from behind her. "What's _your_ rush?"

Filia cursed the fact that her foolproof 'out of sight, out of mind' plan rather depended on Xellos not talking back. "I'm just," she began. "I'm just tired of looking at the back of your stupid head, that's all."

"Oh? Is that so?" Xellos shot back in an eye-twitching sort of tone. She didn't need to see him to know his eye was twitching.

"Will you two cut it out?" Zelgadis asked from where he and Amelia were taking up the rear of the procession. "You're acting like children."

"Just leave 'em alone, Zel," Lina said in a resigned sort of way. "You know they're not going to stop anyway."

"So I guess now I'm stuck looking at the back of _your_ stupid head, then?" Xellos asked as if this interruption hadn't occurred.

This was too much for Filia to take. She looked back and glared sharply at him. "No one's 'stuck looking at the back of my stupid head' because it's no stupid."

"Oh really?"

"Really," Filia affirmed. "I won best hair four years in a row in temple training school."

Of course, she might not have won that last year if Adelfa Vios hadn't had that unfortunate accident. But that's why long hair and rotary blades don't mix.

"So I suppose that makes you an expert then," Xellos said in his mocking sort of way.

"More than _you_ at least," Filia shot back.

"Oh?" Xellos began with an edge in his voice that probably didn't belong in a discussion about hair. "So you don't think I'm quite your equal in the coiffure department, then?"

"I _know_ you're not," Filia answered. It wasn't much. He was stronger than her, smarter than her, and knew more synonyms for 'hairstyle' then her, but damn it: she had better hair.

"You don't like my hair," Xellos said. "Is that what you're saying?"

"No," Filia said.

"Oh?"

"I _can't stand_ your hair," Filia specified with feeling.

"Don't you think that's a little over the top?" Xellos asked in a 'you're being ridiculous again' kind of tone he excelled at.

"It's not," Filia snapped. She knew there was a rant waiting to leak out so she just let the pressure off. "It's like you started out with a dorky bowl-cut and let it get overgrown. I don't know why you'd possibly want to wear it like that. Unless you wanted to put everyone off their guard enough to think that no one who wears their hair in such a silly way could possibly be dangerous. And knowing you, that's probably why. Because if you honestly think it looks good then you're more deluded than you accuse me of being. _Everyone_ thinks it's stupid looking!" She threw up her hands dramatically and looked around for help. "Right, guys?"

There was a long silence. Then Amelia piped up with: "Umm… to be honest, Miss Filia, we really don't think about Mister Xellos's hair that much."

"I don't either," Filia responded a little too quickly. "It's just stupid, that's all," she muttered quietly to herself, making eye-contact only with the ground.

For awhile there was no sound aside from the clomping of turf under six sets of feet. Then Xellos made a very ominous sound. It went like this: "Hmmm."

* * *

Early that evening after the all-you-can-eat massacre known simply as 'dinner', Filia was enjoying some quiet time with a cup of tea at her own table by the window while Lina and the others negotiated for free dessert. The waiter wasn't buying that it was _all_ their birthdays. More the sorrow for him.

"So, is there some sort of prize for getting the 'best hair' award?" Xellos asked, sitting down at her table uninvited, unwelcomed, and unwanted.

"You get your portrait in the end of the year student flier," Filia said through gritted teeth. "Now go away if you're just here to make fun of me."

"On the contrary, I was wondering if you might consider lending me your talents," he said.

Filia nearly choked on her tea. There was no way he was asking what it sounded like he was asking. "What?"

"You know," he prompted. "Change my hair."

She stared at him, mouth agape.

"I'd expect you to jump at the chance," he said in the face of her stunned silence. "Especially since it bothers you so much."

This didn't make sense, she thought wildly. Why would Xellos want to change his hair? As far as she was aware he'd had that dumb hairstyle as long as he'd been taking human form. That had to be thousands and thousands of years. In fact, the last things said at the War of the Monsters Fall before he massacred her people were probably: "Who's that guy with the stupid haircut?" "I don't know, but he looks like a momma's boy". And now he was going to change it just because it bothered _her?_ Since when did he care what bothered her? Generally things bothering her was a point in their favor as far as he was concerned!

"If you want to change it, can't you change it yourself?" she asked, stalling while her brain reeled.

"I could," he allowed. "But I'd be changing it to my tastes, which you clearly disapprove of."

He had a point, but that only increased the feeling that she was being backed into a corner. "Why should I help you?" she asked sullenly.

"Wouldn't you be helping yourself?" he asked, exercising his tendency to answer questions with questions. "Considering that you hate it so much that it drives you to distraction."

"I'm not distracted," she grumbled in what was an outright lie.

"If you say so, Filia," Xellos said with a 'yeah, right' kind of smile. "But will you do it?"

Inside Filia's mind a schizophrenic battle was being waged over her next course of action. Voice A said: Do it. If you change his hair to a different style then it won't be as distracting to you, and boom presto: we get our sanity back.

Voice B said: Don't listen to Voice A, it just wants to touch his hair. This is clearly a trap.

Both good points. Perhaps she should tread lightly here. Perhaps she should think about this before she made a decision. Perhaps she should—

"Alright," she said.

* * *

Filia had left the door to her room wide open, which probably betrayed more of her feelings about having Xellos in her room than she would've been comfortable with. Xellos was sitting at the desk with the mirror, tapping his fingers unconcernedly against the tabletop while Filia tried to get herself together as quickly and inconspicuously as possible.

She was going to get to touch his hair.

…I mean, she was going to get to change his hair to some less ridiculous style and therefore break whatever obsessive hold he had on her.

Right.

She wanted to take a deep breath to prepare herself, but there was no way that she could let him know what a big frickin' deal this was. So she just… reached out a hand (which was _not_ shaking at all, no matter what it might have seemed like) and touched it.

FINALLY.

She ran her fingers through it and then raked her other hand down it. It was silky and smooth and slightly cool feeling just like she'd imagined it would be.

"Filia," he said after waiting several beats. "What are you doing?"

_Don't panic. You're not doing anything wrong. There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything._

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped. "I'm styling your hair."

"…I just thought you might use a brush," he commented.

_It— uh…_

_ Huh._

"I don't have a brush on hand," she deflected.

"Yes, but you must have one somewhere in here," he pointed out. "It might have things easier."

She glared at him as though he was being difficult just for the sake of being difficult. Then she turned away to find her bag.

"Just a minute," she said grouchily.

Stupid Xellos and his completely reasonable expectations.

* * *

She was brushing his hair with one hand and smoothing it down with her other hand. Not that she really needed to do this. Xellos's hair seemed to be magically tangle-free; which is very irritating to anyone with long hair who's ever been sick for a week and had to practically rip out their own hair to remove the knots. But she needed to buy some time. Even if this meant causing a freak-out some time in the future when she found his purple hairs amongst her blonde ones on her brush.

She'd gathered her various hair care items and laid them out on the table since Xellos didn't seem to think that her running her fingers longingly through his hair qualified as 'styling'. Pfft. What did he know! Wasn't she the expert here?

It felt like the scissors were staring at her. She really didn't want to have to use them yet.

But the scissors were the whole point, right? She was going to give him a new hairstyle. A less attention-grabbing one. Then she wouldn't have to dwell on his hair anymore. That was the reason she'd agreed to this. It wasn't just some cheap excuse to paw his hair.

But now she was having second thoughts… did she really want to do this?

Yes. Yes. She had to. Look, she'd cut it shorter and maybe angle the bangs or something. It'd look less weird. Maybe he'd even let her bleach it or something so it wouldn't be that eye-catching shade of purple color. Then everything would be okay. He'd look… normal. He wouldn't attract her attention. He…

He wouldn't be Xellos.

_What a ridiculous thing to think_, she chided herself. Of course he'd still be Xellos. Hairstyles don't make a person who they are. And anyway, that's not even his real form. His real form is as impersonal as things get. This is just… a costume he wears. His hair might as well be a hat that he can wear and discard at his leisure. He just looks how he wants to look.

…But maybe that makes it even more important. Because… because it's how he chooses to look so it reflects something about him. Because it's what he wants people to see. It's all part of a carefully crafted persona that might be completely fake but… well, it's someone he actually _likes_ to be.

_Maybe I don't want to take that away._

_Stop it_, she ordered herself. Look, even if cutting his hair somehow makes him… 'less Xellos', that's not a _bad thing_. Xellos is _bad_. Xellos could stand to be less… Xellosy.

She picked up her scissors with trembling fingers, which is always a bad sign from anyone cutting your hair. Xellos, however, seemed unconcerned. This was because he'd never learned one of the better, yet somehow less widely taught lessons from the Old Testament: Beware of women with scissors.

She opened the scissors with a scrape of metal on metal and brought them up to his hair about the level she planned to cut. Then she stopped; frozen; trying to level the expression on her face so he wouldn't see it in the mirror.

"What's the hold up?" he asked.

She grit her teeth so hard it hurt and tried to will herself to make the first cut. Once she'd started then she'd be able to finish. She tried to squeeze the handle on the scissors, but she couldn't seem to get her hand to move.

"I can't do it!" she shouted suddenly.

She threw the scissors point first with considerable force into the wall, where they lodged about two-and-a-half-inches into the plaster.

He turned around in his chair and raised an eyebrow at her in an expression that clearly said: 'Oh boy, Filia's really gone crackers this time' which she really didn't need at the moment. She was about to burst into frustrated, angry tears as it was.

"You want me to say it?" she demanded. "FINE! I _like_ your stupid hair! I don't know why, and along with the schizophrenic conversations with myself it's probably just a sign that _I need counseling_. There's no _sense_ in it, but there you go! I don't _want_ you to change it! So just," she hesitated here, having reached the point where she still wanted to yell at him but was running out of things to yell, "Just take your stupid, distracting hair and GET LOST!"

Xellos surveyed her post-tantrum stance with the eye of a connoisseur. Then he slowly arranged his expression into a smug little smile that made Filia want to claw his face off.

"I _knew_ I looked good," he said.


	6. Unoriginal Sin

**Author's Note: **Here's theme #65: Unoriginal Sin.

* * *

**Unoriginal Sin.**

Edie's Garden and Orchard was a beautiful place to visit at any time of year, but Filia especially liked it in the fall. Every year she'd close up shop and fly herself, Val, Gravos, and Jillas down to Millspring County to visit. And it was a lot of fun. It wasn't exactly flower season, though a few late lasting species hung around in the autumn, but it was the prime time to watch the trees change color.

Val picked out his pumpkin there every year. They'd always try to get big ones so they'd have more seeds to cook. And there were plenty of activities geared at kids his age including face painting, story-telling circles, and hayrides. Not to mention all the apple pie. Filia's mouth watered when she thought about the apple pie. You couldn't get apple pie like that anywhere else in the world but Edie's.

The autumn weather was at its absolute best that day. Of course, Filia would've taken them down to Edie's no matter what the weather. They'd braved wind storms and surprise blizzards to get there in the past and it was always worth it. But today it was as though the gods had given Filia the gift of the perfect fall weather for her family outing.

She was getting a little time to herself after helping Val roll a pumpkin almost as big as him over to the cart that held the other purchases from the to-die-for farmer's market. Val had decided to try out the corn maze and Jillas and Gravos had gone with him. Knowing their sense of direction, it was likely Filia wouldn't be seeing them again for awhile. But they'd promised to meet up later for apple pie and cider.

And while she loved being with Val, and Gravos, and Jillas she was glad to get a little alone time. It was peaceful to just walk through the trees after all the hecticness of the shop and of traveling. The leaves were red, almost the color of blood. It was odd though; in that context it was soothing.

Her path was suddenly cut off as an arm descended from the foliage above her, an apple held out in its gloved hand.

"Hungry?" it asked.

Filia glared sharply at the familiar figure of Xellos, lounging comfortably in the trees as only someone with no fear of gravity can. "Why do you have to ruin everything nice?" she demanded.

"Ruin? I thought I was helping," he said with faux-innocence, as he offered the produce once more.

"You're not supposed to pick those," Filia said brushing away his hand as she went around it and continued walking down the path.

There was the sound of someone hitting the ground behind her. She willed herself not to turn around, decided she was going to turn around anyway, and did so. "Is that so?" Xellos asked.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know!" Filia said, frustrated as always with how he pretended he wasn't the most malignant thing to ever walk the earth. "There are signs everywhere!"

Indeed there were. 'No Picking' signs dotted the entire landscape, with language variations underneath. They were the cause of paranoia in a lot of six-year-olds that weren't very well-versed in how to behave in public.

Xellos threw the apple up in the air and idly caught it. "Would an apple orchard really forbid people from picking apples? That doesn't make any sense."

"It does since they're selling them," Filia pointed out. "They don't want people just walking off with them without paying."

"I wouldn't expect capitalism to be so alive and well in a humble farmer's market," Xellos commented.

Filia hated when Xellos did this. She'd make a completely reasonable comment and somehow he'd suck her into a pointless argument. She could see a looming fight about economics around the corner and she wasn't going to have any of that. So instead she just sat down on a stone bench and asked point-blank: "What are you doing here anyway?"

Xellos shrugged. "Oh, just taking in the color and spectacle of the season; offering you fresh fruit. I know these probably seem like dastardly actions to you, but what can I say? I'm a monster."

"_Ha!_" Filia said, crossing her arms. She didn't believe any of it for a minute.

"You sure you don't want it?" Xellos asked, holding out the apple once again.

Admittedly, Filia _was_ hungry. It was getting late and she was longing for that apple pie she'd promised to wait to eat with Val. And Edie's apples _were_ the most delicious in the world. They clearly grew, not on water, but on some kind of nectar of the gods. But she wasn't about to accept one from Xellos. She had principles after all.

"Knowing you, there's probably a worm in it," she said sourly.

"Not unless one's teleported in there," Xellos said, examining the skin of the fruit through his closed eyes. "But you can check yourself if you want," he said, tossing the apple her way.

She caught it, mostly on impulse and glared down at the red and noticeably shiny thing in her hand. It didn't _appear_ to have any worm holes in it. "I'm not going to eat it anyway," she sniped. "It's against the rules."

"No it's not," Xellos said, in clear defiance of reality.

"Of course it is!" Filia snarled, irritated by both Xellos and the fact that her hunger pangs were getting worse now that the apple was actually in her hands. "Can't you read the signs?"

"I can," Xellos said calmly. "But maybe _you_ can't. They say you're not allowed to _pick_ the apples. There's nothing against eating them."

Filia scowled at him. "Xellos, have you ever heard that saying 'you're following the letter of the law and not the spirit of the law'?"

"No. Why?" Xellos asked, taking the seat on the bench next to her completely uninvited.

Filia scooched slightly away from him. "I'm not going to eat it," she said bluntly. "It's _stealing_."

"I didn't know dragons were so wasteful," Xellos commented craftily. "It's already been picked so you might as well eat it."

Filia was a small-business owner supporting four people. She was the queen of leftovers. She didn't need Xellos lecturing her about frugality. "I'm not going to be a party to your immoral activity," she said haughtily.

"Immoral activity?" Xellos repeated. "So do you think the fruit will turn to ash in your mouth just because it's an ill-gotten gain?"

"It might," Filia said, slightly sulkily.

"Actually, I've found that the opposite is true," Xellos said. "Practically anything will become better if you break the rules to get it. You've risked more for it, so you add extra value in your mind. The harder something is to get, the more someone will naturally want it. Plus there's an added thrill of danger."

"Why," Filia asked leadenly, "would I want danger in the produce department?"

Xellos tapped his cheek with his gloved index finger. "Because danger is exciting."

Filia looked doubtfully at the apple and then back at Xellos. "Exciting's not really what I look for in fruit," she said.

"You might be missing out," Xellos said hintingly.

"Oh come on," Filia said. "You really think this apple will taste better than one I could buy with my hard earned money just because it's stolen?"

Xellos raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think one you buy would taste better just because it was acquired honestly?"

"I do," Filia said firmly. "And we don't have to just talk about this. I can _prove _it. I'll eat your nasty, rotten stolen apple and then I'll buy one in the shop and we'll _see_ which one is better."

"That'll really show me," Xellos agreed emphatically.

Filia held the apple up and couldn't help but look around. She knew Xellos was probably laughing at her on the inside for being paranoid. But what could she say? She'd grown up in the temple! Doing bad things was supposed to automatically earn punishment and she was half-expecting an irate gardener to pop up any second waving a rake in a violent manner.

Filia got herself together and took a bite. Her teeth sank in past the skin and into the flesh of the fruit. Xellos was watching her closely as she did so, which was a very weird feeling. But despite her expectations, the forbidden fruit did not turn to ash in her mouth.

Well, she couldn't have _really_ expected that, could she? It was still an Edie's apple even if it was _tainted with sin_. It was delicious: as it was made to be. It was light and its fleshed cleaved easily as though it had no other desire than to be eaten. It was perfectly ripe: neither too hard nor too soft. It had a mouthwatering, slightly honeyed flavor that made not taking a second bite out of the question. And it was juicy; very juicy.

"So…" Xellos began. "It would seem its status as stolen property has diminished none of its flavor."

Filia looked up from her half-skeletonized apple and narrowed her eyes at him. "You just wait," she said. "This won't even compare to an apple bought as the result of rewarding hard work instead of petty thievery."

But Xellos didn't appear to be paying much attention to her rather dubious claim. He wasn't even polite enough to look her in the eyes while she was talking, which irritated Filia when she noticed it. When she realized where he was looking, her irritation turned to panic.

He was staring at her lips.

He reached out his hand toward her, leaning forward as she leaned slightly back. He rested a fingertip gently against her chin and dragged it slowly upwards to the corner of her mouth where the juice from the apple had dripped. He brought his hand back and thoughtfully licked the finger.

"Honey crisp, am I right?" he asked.

"Y-yes," Filia said, a little too shocked to appreciate the fact that she sounded like an awkward middle-schooler.

He smiled and moved closer to her as she gripped the apple like a chastity belt. His lips closed around hers almost lazily as his hand snaked around her and pressed steadily against her lower back. This was probably a good thing in retrospect or she would've fallen off the bench. Her head was already beginning to tilt to one side before she woke up enough to push him off of her.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded breathlessly. And angrily. In fact, the anger was the cause of the breathlessness!

Xellos smirked. "I just thought you might have acquired a taste for forbidden fruit," he said. He waved a finger at her. "I don't think I was wrong."

She stared at him. Then she looked down at the apple. Then she glared up at him. She wanted to think of something to say back to him. Maybe some witty insult punning on fruit. Unfortunately she couldn't think of one.

So she threw the apple at his head, screamed: "Well you _are_ wrong!" and stalked away.

Xellos rubbed his head where the cider-projectile had hit him as he watched her stomp off in a haze of randomized guilt and sexual frustration. _Perhaps_, he thought to himself, _I need to work a little on my tempting skills._

_…Oh well. Practice makes perfect._


	7. Game

**Author's Note: **My poor, dear Summer Nights collection! How could I have let you languish for TWO WHOLE WEEKS? Well, I'm back now, with theme #15: Game

* * *

**Game.**

Xellos sat on the light brown sofa (with coral pink decorative pillows at either end) in the middle of Filia's living room and watched her flurry of activity with an expression buffeting between amusement, puzzlement, and slight annoyance. She was currently grunting as she heaved a hutch with pears painted on the side of it from one wall to the opposite wall and doing her best to ignore him all the while.

He sipped his tea in mild irritation. He'd had to get it himself too. Filia had never been a very good hostess. Informing her of that had done nothing to improve her manners. Apparently she was much more content to move display cabinets from one perfectly reasonable position to another than she was to pay the slightest bit of attention to her guest.

Filia wiped the sweat from her brow as she brought the hutch to a rest. Then she abruptly turned to face Xellos with a determined glare and her hands on her hips.

"Move," was all she said.

He looked upward as though he was weighing the matter. "No," he said. "I'm quite comfortable here if it's all the same to you."

"It's _not_ all the same to me!" Filia thundered. "I'm trying to rearrange the furniture in here and you're just getting in the way."

"I don't see why you bother," Xellos said calmly, taking another sip from his tea cup. "There was nothing wrong with the way the room looked before."

"Oh _please_," Filia said scornfully. "What would a monster know about interior decorating?"

Xellos raised an eyebrow and wondered what a _dragon_ would know about it.

"It really doesn't look any better to me," Xellos commented, looking around the partially rearranged room.

Filia looked around the room speculatively, the dreams of home improvement plans churning away in her mind. "It will when it's done," she said.

Xellos leaned forward. "Filia," he said, "every time I come here the furniture is in a different configuration."

Filia got this sort of look in her eye, like a recovering alcoholic caught with a bottle. "It's— I just…" she began weakly.

"Don't people trip over things with you constantly rearranging them?" Xellos wondered out loud.

"Not if they're cognizant of their surroundings they don't!" Filia answered in such a shrill, excuse-laden voice that Xellos was fairly certain he'd described an event that took place on a regular basis.

"Look," Filia said, as though she was loathe to admit something but was being forced to, "I just… well, when I've had a stressful day I just… like to rearrange the furniture, okay? Don't ask me why, but it makes me feel better."

Xellos thought he could see the pathetic little philosophy that brought this about. It went something like: 'I may not be able to control my life, but _damn it_ I can still control my living room!'

"You clearly have _way_ too much physical energy to expound," he said. "You need a hobby."

"There's nothing wrong with moving furniture," Filia said huffily as a crash from the other room signaled Jillas tripping over a footstool that hadn't been there a few hours ago. She steadfastly ignored it. "It's not like I'm in any danger of crushing myself with a wardrobe. I'm strong enough to handle it."

"Oh yes," Xellos said with a nasty little curl of his lip. "You dragons do tend to have a misplaced pride in your strength, don't you?"

"It's not misplaced!" Filia shot back. "I'm _very_ strong! I've won the county arm wrestling competition for all three years that I've lived here."

"How impressive," Xellos commented in a tone that was snickering behind the bleachers. "What an interesting image that brings to mind," he added thoughtfully. "You, drunk in a bar at midnight, swindling ham-fisted sailors out of their hard earned money."

"It wasn't like that at all!" Filia snapped. "It was at the county fair, it was broad daylight, I was _completely_ sober, and no money changed hands." She paused, thought for a moment, and then conceded: "There _were_ ham-fisted sailors, though."

"And what did you win for this great accomplishment?" Xellos inquired.

"All-you-can-eat steaks from Tiberius's T-bone House in the village square," Filia said.

Xellos looked around her openly to her gluteus maximus. "I imagine that was quite a lot," he said.

She threw the first thing she could lay her hands on at him, which turned out to be a porcelain pony. Xellos saw her wince as it broke pointlessly on the wall behind him. That was not something she'd wanted to break.

He watched her as she got out the dust-pan and gathered up the remnants of the erstwhile pretty pony and shoveled them into the garbage, muttering angrily all the while. Unlike her, he knew that strength wasn't the most important thing. It was really about how you leveraged it.

He could see the pieces lining up…

"Of course," he commented carefully, "I can't really be sure you won honestly, can I?"

She straightened up immediately, turned around and scowled at him. "Are you _daring_ to imply that I cheated?"

"No, no," Xellos said, waving away this accusation. "I just meant that it's not hard to imagine a bunch of muscle-heads deciding to be sports and let the girl win."

"They didn't let me win!" Filia exclaimed. "They might have said that afterwards, but that's just because they were embarrassed. I can beat anyone in this town easily!"

Xellos shrugged nonchalantly. "You couldn't beat me," he said certainly.

Filia's scowl gained new intensity. If she was being cool-headed, which was a rare but not entirely unheard of state to find Filia in, then she might have reluctantly accepted this as true. But she wouldn't now. Her pride was on the line and she was blinded by anger.

And sure enough she walked purposefully over to the table (previously on the left wall, but now neatly tucked in a niche by the window), sat down, leaned her elbow on the table, and held out her hand. It was like a bear claw, waiting to strike down a salmon, deer, or unwary hiker. She gave him a challenging look.

Xellos just smiled. "I don't think so, Filia," he said.

"Why?" she barked. "Scared you might lose?"

"No," Xellos said. "I'm so certain that I'll win that honestly it's too boring to be worth bothering."

"You were the one who said I couldn't beat you," Filia reminded. "You _have_ to defend that."

"I don't have to defend anything," Xellos said unconcernedly. "But if you're really going to insist on this then it might work as long as we made it more interesting."

"Interesting?" Filia repeated guardedly.

"A game is always more fun with a wager," Xellos said, looking into his tea as he swished it from side to side as if he wasn't paying much mind to the conversation.

Filia glowered at him as though trying to figure out what he was up to. After coming up with fairly little she finally said: "What could you possibly want out of me?"

Xellos noted with interest that this wasn't merely a scornful statement. Oh, there was plenty of scorn in it. But it was definitely a question. As in, she really wanted to know what he wanted out of her.

"Nothing really," he said.

Filia gave a derisive snort.

Xellos broke his eye-contact with the tea, to peer at her. "Well, it's not as though there's any use in you."

Filia finally quit her pre-arm wrestling pose in order to cross her arms. "If I'm so _useless_," she shot back, "then why are you always hanging around here?"

Xellos grinned. "_Because_ if I didn't show up, you'd have no healthy way to relieve all that frustration you're so good at accumulating and eventually rearranging furniture wouldn't be enough for you to deal with it so you'd snap and end up as a performer in some sort of underground mud wrestling competition."

Filia made a face at him. "You have a disgusting mind!" she declared. "And anyway, you're the cause of my frustration!"

"Well, we all know _that_," Xellos said cheerfully.

Filia's brow furrowed as though she wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that. But she didn't appear to be willing to spend much time dwelling on it, as she rolled her eyes and said: "What kind of wager did you have in mind anyway?"

Xellos could practically hear the gears clicking into place. "Oh, I didn't really have anything in mind," he said unconcernedly. "I can't really think of anything I want from you right now. What about you, Filia?" He looked up at her. "Was there something you wanted from me?"

Even from across the room, Xellos could see the giant, jittering shudder work its way up from Filia's toes. "No!" she yelled. "Why would I want anything from you?"

Xellos wagged an admonishing finger at her. "It was only a question, Filia. No need to get so excited."

He took a long drink out of his tea while Filia stewed in her anger at the table. "How about this," he finally said. "Let's make the bet be that the loser owes the winner a favor. That way it doesn't matter that neither of us can think of anything right now."

"A favor?" Filia repeated, suspicion-level sky-rocketing.

"Oh, nothing too extreme," Xellos assured her. "I wouldn't have you kill a baby or blow up a temple or anything. Nothing you'd never be able to bring yourself to do. Just… a favor when the time comes that it might be needed."

Xellos watched Filia's face as the flickers in her expression revealed her thought process. She was still suspicious. She didn't believe for a moment that he hadn't already lined up what he wanted her to do in his mind. And she was certain that she wouldn't approve of whatever it was. On the other hand, she realized the possible potential that having Xellos owe her a favor could have. She would do anything now to protect her adopted son, and in a world where dragons and monsters might one day decide to knock off the fledgling survivor of his race… well, having a chance for a favor from Xellos seemed like something to good to pass up.

And then there was the most important part. _She'd_ issued the challenge. If she said no now then she'd be a coward.

"Fine!" she said, removing her glove, rolling up her sleeve, and once again getting into arm-wrestling position.

Showing absolutely no respect for her determination or getting into the spirit of the thing at all, Xellos strode lazily over to the table with his teacup in hand, set it down on the table, and only then did he put his gloved hand around hers.

"Count of three?" he asked. Filia nodded.

"One, two, three!" they said together.

Filia's arm quivered as she drew on the massive force of her dragon form, locked away beneath her human appearance, and slammed it against Xellos's arm.

Which. Didn't. Move. A. Centimeter.

She ground her teeth together and continued to push, hammering against her muscles to make them give out something more. As Xellos watched her with a faint smile that he knew was positively killing her, he saw that the thing that bothered her most was that he wasn't even trying.

To add insult to injury, he reached over with his other hand, picked up his tea cup, and took a drink as she continued in her tireless, but futile effort to topple his arm.

After a moment he saw her tentatively reach up her other hand and then pull it away.

"That's fine," he said. "Try it. I really don't mind."

She hesitated and then swallowed her pride and added her other hand. But even pushing with both hands she still couldn't beat him.

Xellos wondered vaguely how long she'd go before something got dislocated. But he was going to wait until her strength ran out before he made the winning strike. She had to _learn_ that she couldn't win against him.

He watched as she winced, one eye closed in concentration while she continued to push. She wouldn't give up as long as there was strength left in her. She was breathing heavily and vocalizing her pained efforts. Her forehead was shiny with sweat, and her hands slippery against his gloved one.

She didn't even notice as he leaned forward, tilted his head, and put his lips against hers.

Shock poured off of her as her eyes flew open and the grip on his hand instantly weakened. It increased immediately when he pressed onward, as though she needed to hold onto him. As he raised the hand that wasn't holding hers to caress her cheek, she instantly let her face fall into it, as though too tired to resist.

They remained like that for awhile, kissing in the sunlight that filtered in from the curtain windows and onto the table (which really did look much better in the niche), their arms still frozen in positions of combat. Something like this probably wasn't mentioned in the World Arm-Wrestling Federation's playbook, but Xellos thought he had a pretty good argument that it counted as an improvisational distraction technique.

Xellos watched her intently as they pulled apart. She was breathless, weary, and unsure what to do next. Her eyes sparked with that captivating combination of guilt and lust. It was… a powerful thing to be able to put her in that state.

A _thlunk_ sound drew Xellos's eyes down to the table. Both her hands lay over his, pinned to the table. He looked back up at her.

"I…" she began, barely able to get the words out. "I win."

* * *

**A/N**: Will be continued. Not necessarily next (though quite possibly), but it will be continued.


	8. Terms & Conditions

**Author's Note: **A continuation of the last chapter's 'Game' entry. Here's #37: Terms & Conditions.

* * *

**Terms & Conditions.**

"She beat you," Beastmaster Zelas summed up after her singular servant finished relating the unfortunate results of his arm-wrestling match with the ex-dragon priestess he insisted on spending so much time with.

"That appears to be the case," Xellos admitted in a tone with a chipper candy-coating and a nervous chocolate-center. "It seems I underestimated her focus."

Zelas took a pull of her pipe and watched as the smoke billowed upwards. Losing a contest of strength against someone who is legitimately weaker than you generally indicates that they have some mental leverage against you. Xellos was supposed to be _good_ at mental leverage. Which made this… interesting… but nevertheless troublesome.

"So you now owe a golden dragon – a former priestess, no less – a favor," she said, letting this unpleasant fact and all its implications sink to the floor.

"That is true," Xellos confessed. "She can't ask me for _anything_. We agreed that it couldn't be anything too extreme," he said, holding up a finger. "However," he admitted, "the terms and conditions of the arrangement _are_ rather vague."

"You made them vague on purpose so you could exploit them later," Zelas pointed out.

"Well, of course," Xellos admitted unabashedly.

"And what would your dragon girl ask of you?" Zelas asked, giving the matter some thought.

"I don't think she knows," Xellos said. "Her strategy is most likely to save the favor for a time when her or her son's life is in danger."

"And who knows, when that time comes, what operations that would interfere with," Zelas said, narrowing her eyes. "Can't you just go back on the bargain?" she asked, leaning over to take a sip from a martini glass containing a highly toxic, sweet blue liquid with a chemical make-up very similar to antifreeze.

"I could," Xellos said.

"But you don't want to?" Zelas said, raising an eyebrow.

"I thoroughly intended on Filia being the one owing me a favor," Xellos explained. "Her holy magic could be useful for breaking seals. And of course, there's the magical fusion element to think of."

"And if you try to bet with her again after going back on your first deal, she'll feel no responsibility to keep up her end of the bargain," Zelas deduced wearily. Certainly there would be some use in a golden dragon being in Xellos's debt. But Lord Beastmaster tended to think he was rather stuck on the idea. Probably some kind of psychology going on there.

"But I have a plan to dissipate the favor I owe her harmlessly so it won't be an unknown to worry about in the future," Xellos announced.

"Oh?" Zelas asked, taking a drink. _This should be good_.

"I'll just seduce her," Xellos said.

_Yes, definitely some kind of psychology,_ Zelas decided.

"I think the events of the contest have proven this to be a strategy she'll be susceptible to," he added, realizing on that stare that his grand scheme needed some explaining.

Zelas was not above letting her subordinate run into brick walls of his own making. At least when it was of no harm to her. She liked to think it taught valuable lessons.

She blew a smoke tesseract because smoke rings are for chumps. "Knock yourself out," she said.

* * *

It was when Filia started carrying the sofa upstairs that Jillas and Gravos decided it might be best to take Val to the park and give Filia some alone time. Filia had a history of rearranging furniture when she was upset, but lately it bordered on the maniacal. To walk in the house in darkness was to invite _death_. Something must have _really_ gotten her upset to get her like this.

She'd brought all the paintings from downstairs and swapped them with the ones upstairs, which was fine because it's always nice to change one's surroundings. She had to admit that moving the guest wardrobe down to the living room was a mistake. It definitely blocked out the light coming through the window. But she'd felt fresh all over after she moved it.

…For about two minutes. Now she was looking for something else to move.

_Oh! The suede easy chair!_ She thought, moving towards the dining room where the chair in question had been temporarily located. With a little weather-proofing that would be _perfect_ out on the second floor balcony. She just had to find her tool box and maybe some shower curtains and—

_Oh, son of a bitch!_ Filia thought, her anger overpowering the swear filter in her mind, as she entered the dining room to find an unwelcomed guest on her suede easy chair.

"Good afternoon, Filia," Xellos said from his perch. "It seems that your irrational redecorating attempts have accelerated in my absence." He tilted his head to the side. "I wonder what could have caused you such stress since I left."

_You know exactly what it is, you jerk!_ her mind screamed at him. It was all his fault for kissing her. And he'd only done it to _be_ a jerk too. Just to rub in her face how weak she was compared to him.

Much as she hated to admit it, it had been all she could do not to melt into a little puddle on the floor when that happened. She put all of her strength against him as her only way of fighting against the sensations caused by the force invading her.

She hadn't actually expected it to work.

"Get out of here, you monster!" she demanded, ignoring his opening line. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now!"

Xellos raised an eyebrow. "Should I come back when you're more in the mood?"

"That would be: never!" she shouted back. "Now go away! I'm too busy to play anymore of your stupid games."

"Busy doing pointless manual labor so you don't have to think about your real problems," Xellos summed up coolly. "How dare I interrupt?"

"Yes," Filia said, agreeing emphatically with his sarcasm. "How dare you?"

"How can I leave, Filia," he asked, "when I still owe you a favor?"

Filia was tempted to tell him to do her a favor and _get lost_, but that would be a waste of a good favor. Besides, it might be impossible; Xellos always seemed to know where he was.

"I don't want anything from you right now," she said, her arms crossed. "There's no rule that says I have to use the favor now."

"Yes," Xellos conceded. "But you _could_ use it now."

"I could," Filia said through gritted teeth, starting to get really frustrated at this point. "But I! Don't! Want to!"

Xellos surveyed her shuddering rage. "Oh, that's right, I forgot," he said. "Your life is completely perfect."

And it was at this moment that Filia became painfully aware that she was sweating, her hair was frizzing madly in the humidity, the dining room table was taking up the entire upstairs bathroom, and her son's crib was in the kitchen.

She ran a hand through her messy hair and tried to recover from this unpleasant dose of reality. "Anything you could do," she gulped, "would only make my life worse."

He stared at her for a moment, then held out his gloved hand. "Care to test that?"

Filia stared at his hand knowing all too well that good and sensible people do not take monsters up on their dubious offers of happiness. There was a pull, a horrified curiosity that wasn't nearly as horrified as she thought it ought to be. But she couldn't help but feel that this was more than just a deal with the devil.

_What is he… offering?_

She blushed and automatically turned away. "No!" she shouted. "No I wouldn't."

She heard him get up and stand behind her but couldn't bring herself to face him.

"So," she heard him say, "when I was kissing you and you were nuzzling your face into my hand, did that mean you _didn't_ like it?"

She whipped around to look at him, her face awash with anger and retorted: "You're the one who was kissing me! I think it's pretty clear that _you're_ the one who liked it!"

Xellos shrugged. "Of course I did."

Filia was taken aback. She'd honestly expected him to deny it and shift the focus back on her again. It would've been so like him to say that her reasoning of 'he kissed me because he likes kissing me' was utterly illogical and simply proved her to be the stupid, conclusion-jumping-to dragon that she was.

"What?" she practically whispered.

"Well, it was a pleasurable experience," he said simply, causing something to go _twang_ under Filia's ribcage. "If I denied something so clearly true then that could only mean that I was hiding something important from myself," he added in a holier-than-thou tone that was rather ironic on a demon.

"I don't love you, if that's what you mean!" Filia shouted. Then she realized she might have responded to quickly.

Xellos arched an eyebrow. "I never said you did."

"Well you were implying it!" she shot back. "You're always implying things," she growled darkly.

Xellos gave her a 'you are ridiculous' look. "Filia, if you want me to kiss you again then you just have to ask."

Filia opened her mouth and drew in a breath, the look on her face clearly screaming: 'there are no words to describe the line you just crossed'.

"What?" he said. "That wasn't an implication. It was a fairly direct accusation."

"I don't want you to kiss me!" she finally exploded out. "I don't know how you can even say something so awful like it's no big deal!"

"And anyway," she snapped, "why is it always on me? You just keep going on with your 'Oh, Filia, _you_ want this. It's all _you_.' when _you're_ the one that admitted to liking the kiss in the first place. Why don't you just try honesty for once in your life, if only for the novelty of it, and say 'Can I kiss you because _I_ want to?' It's at least a less obnoxious strategy!"

"…Can I kiss you because I want to?" he tried cautiously.

"No!" Filia yelled.

"But you said—"

"I _said_ it was a less obnoxious strategy. I didn't say I'd say yes," Filia said, cutting across him.

"I don't even know why you're bothering with this," Filia said, mostly to herself. "I mean, it's not like you felt the need to debate me about it last time. You just went ahead anyway and I was too shocked to…" She looked up into Xellos's open eyes.

_Oh crap. That was out loud_.

He reached a hand slowly over to her. She flinched, but didn't move away when it ran through her hair. He moved her closer to him and kissed her.

And this time there wasn't a table between them or a contest of strength on hold. This time he pulled her down with him onto the nice suede chair that she'd only recently been considering covering with a shower curtain and putting outside, and running his hand up her leg.

"Xellos," she breathed out in a panic as his lips left hers and ran across her neck.

"What?" he answered, sounding irritated at this interruption.

"The," she began – she couldn't believe she was saying this, "the bedroom is upstairs." Thank the gods she hadn't moved the bed. Only because she couldn't fit it out the door (which raised questions about how it got in there in the first place).

He looked up into her half-closed eyes for about ten seconds. "That's interesting," he said, and then continued doing the work of the decades by raising her hemline.

"_Xellos!_"

"Oh, alright," he relented, scooping her into his arms and carrying her upstairs.

* * *

Filia lay in bed some time later plagued with guilt, absolutely sure that she'd made a decision she would regret intensely later. On the other hand, she no longer felt any desire to move furniture.

"It's almost a shame I only owed you one favor," Xellos said pensively, watching her from the other side of the bed.

"What do you mean 'owed'?" Filia asked, barely getting back her sharpness after what had transpired between them. "You don't honestly think this counts as the favor, do you?"

"Well, of course it does," Xellos said, but he sounded just a little unsure.

"I never said anything about a favor," Filia said. "You were the one going on and on about it after I said no."

Xellos looked like he was thinking fast. "Are you _sure_ you didn't say anything about a favor?"

"Yes!" Filia insisted. Like she'd actually sacrifice a possible get-out-of-death-free card to satisfy her own obviously insane and morally reprehensible desires!

"Perhaps you might have moaned something about it while we were—"

Storm clouds rolled across Filia's expression. "_No._"

"—something along the lines of _'Oh, Xellos! Oh yes! This definitely counts as a favor!_'?" he tried.

Thunder rumbled from the metaphorical mass of cumulonimbus. "I think you should leave now," she said threateningly.

"…So that's a 'no'?"

"GET OUT!"

* * *

"It didn't work," Zelas said leadenly. "How shocking."

"I'm afraid so, Lord Beastmaster," Xellos answered contritely. "I confess there were some matters I didn't take into account.

_Like the entire plan_, Zelas thought as she picked up a mug containing her new favorite drink. It was something she'd borrowed from the deepest dungeon of the Atlas City Sorcerer's Guild where the sorcerers would be horrified to find it missing. It wasn't in a pretty container because it was only an inch thick layer of an alloy of orihalcon and magnetized iron that was keeping the radioactive sludge inside from eating through its container and dissolving through the world until it came out the other side. She'd placed an orange wedge rather jauntily on the rim of the mug.

"But I have another plan that should fix everything," Xellos announced.

"Does it involve having sex with her again?" Zelas asked almost boredly, taking a swig of the radioactive slurry.

"…Sort of," Xellos admitted.

"Do tell."

"Well," Xellos said, determined to explain his plan but nevertheless now slightly less confident in it, "now that Filia and I have already had sex she'll be much more likely to want it in the future. I simply have to withhold it until the time that she asks for it as part of our deal."

Zelas stared at him. A catastrophic meltdown was narrowly avoided as a spark from her pipe just barely missed her drink.

"Xellos," she finally said, because it didn't seem like he'd figure this out any time soon, "I think that the events of the past few days have spelled out in the clearest of terms that you just don't have the willpower."


	9. How to Impress a Woman

**Author's Note: **Just wanted to get a quick one down before I left for vacation. Here's theme #60.

* * *

**How to Impress a Woman.**

Filia watched with the proud eyes of a mother as Val ran through the playground with his arms out, playing tag with the other kids and generally having the time of his life. She'd been determined to give him the childhood he'd never had, but she'd been so _worried_. He'd only started school a few weeks ago and it was as if she'd been holding her breath for something to go wrong. She kept thinking that he might… oh say, accidentally transform and burn a hole in the wall or something. You know, the little things moms worry about.

But things seemed to be going well. Val was adapting and making friends, no one was giving him any trouble there, and he had a home and a family now.

Well, sort of.

She broke her gaze away from Val to give a sidelong glance to the person on the bench next to her. This probably looked normal. Sure, they didn't seem too different from any of the other parents watching their kids play. But a dragon and a monster sitting peacefully on a park bench is anything but normal.

It _looked_ normal. By this point it even _felt_ normal. That was the scary part.

"He's got all the strength necessary to terrorize this playground," Xellos observed, pointing idly at Val with one of his hands draped over the back of the bench, "but he follows the bigger kids around. Have you noticed that?"

"I don't want him to be a schoolyard bully!" Filia answered, incensed.

"Really?" Xellos said. "Don't you want him to live up to his potential?"

"Not that kind of potential!" Filia retorted.

"You've always been so closed-minded," Xellos commented with a little disapproving click of his tongue.

Filia privately thought that this was an unfair accusation. Letting the creature that murdered thousands of your race share your house, your meals, and your bed didn't sound closed-minded to her. In fact, it sounded dangerously and stupidly open-minded.

And none of this really should have happened. She was not the type of person who would've let something like this happen to her. And yet, here they were. Whenever she tried to put in to words _how_ they'd gotten there it never made much sense.

And she didn't know why Xellos bothered with it all. Not just… well, the two of them. There was kind of a silent understanding about that. But he'd seemed oddly willing to insinuate himself into her entire life. You'd think that a monster would have better things to do then play with a dragon child in his off hours.

_Perhaps he's just in it for the mayhem_, Filia thought sourly. Honestly, between the two of them she wasn't sure which was more trouble.

"You know, the florist down the street thinks we're married," Xellos said quietly.

Filia turned mortified eyes on him. "You told her we're not, right?" she demanded.

"Of course," Xellos said comfortingly. "I assured her that we're just sleeping together."

Filia's mortification deepened. "You did _what_—"

"Seems like Val's run into a bit of trouble," Xellos cut her off with a nod to the playground.

Filia's head whipped back towards the playground. Her son was approaching her looking troubled indeed.

Filia leaned down to child-height. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked.

"I—" the five-year-old began, "I wanna play in the fort," he said awkwardly.

"Well then, why don't you?" Filia said encouragingly.

"I can't," Val said, rubbing his arm ruefully.

"Why not?" Filia asked.

"'Cause _Ginny's_ there," Val answered, as though the girl's name had dark, hidden meaning.

Both Filia and Xellos looked up at the fort where a single little pig-tailed girl with a rhinestone tiara on her head was talking with a dolly. She hardly cut a threatening figure.

"I'm sure if you ask Ginny nicely she'd be happy to share the fort with you," Filia said using her special talking-to-children voice.

"Nuh-uh!" Val insisted. "She doesn't like me!"

"Everyone likes you," Filia said in a voice that believed what it was saying 110%.

"Not _her_."

"Does she not like you," Xellos asked carefully, "or does she just not like you as much as you like her?"

Val's face told a story, and it was an easy to read story with cardboard pages and big letters. Filia gave Xellos a fleeting look of amazement. Val's first crush. And she hadn't been the first one to notice it! Damn that observant bastard!

"What do I gotta do to make her like me?" Val asked, and to Filia's horror she found that he was asking Xellos.

Sure, it probably made some sense to Val. Xellos might have pretty purple hair, but he was still the male role model in Val's life (unfortunately) so that probably made him the go-to person for advice on girls. But still! You do not ask a monster for dating advice! Someone ought to write that down…

"Just be nice to her," Filia cut in before Xellos could respond. "Maybe compliment her tiara," she suggested brightly.

Val looked at his mom's fixed smile for a moment, and then turned his gaze back to Xellos who shook his head. Filia's smile dropped so quickly she might have cracked a tooth.

"If you really want to impress her then do _not_ be nice to her and definitely don't compliment her," Xellos said. Then he paused, gave the matter some thought, and added: "Unless you insult her before or after you compliment her. That actually works twice as well."

"What— How can you—?" Filia began, flabbergasted.

"Pull her hair," Xellos suggested. "Make faces at her, chase her, call her names—"

"That's enough!" Filia standing up as she shouted over him. "Val is not going to do any such mean-spirited, ridiculous—"

"'Kay," Val said, and ran back to the playground as fast as his little legs would carry him.

Filia stared after her son for a moment, and then turned a fiery glare on Xellos. "_You—_" she began.

"What?" he had the nerve to ask innocently.

"How dare you tell my son to do those _awful_ things!"

"I thought it was pretty good advice," Xellos said smoothly.

"It's not!" Filia exploded. "What gives you the right to sabotage my son's first crush?"

"Sabotaging?" Xellos repeated, as if the word was hurtful. "I'm not sabotaging. I'm helping."

"You are _not!_" Filia shouted back. "What kind of girl would actually respond positively to that kind of treatment?"

Xellos shrugged. "It worked on you," he said.

Filia froze, struck dumb. Then she slowly sat down next to him and scowled off to the side. "It didn't work on me," she insisted. "You're just lucky I tolerate your disgraceful behavior."

"Your patience is legendary," Xellos commented in a voice that didn't _sound_ sarcastic, but Filia knew better.

"Hmph!" Filia responded, crossing her arms. "Well, I won't have to be patient for long to see your advice fail."

"My advice won't fail because it is excellent," Xellos said assuredly. "Perhaps you should start picking up parenting tips from me, Filia," he said, turning to her. "After all, I _am_ the World's Best Dad."

Filia sucked in an exasperated breath. "Just because you buy a mug doesn't make you—"

"Look," Xellos said, pointing up to the fort. "The plan's already working. She's paying _much_ more attention to him now."

"She just threw her doll at his face," Filia said, torn between feeling triumphant over Xellos and worried over her son's feelings.

"Yes," Xellos said, as if this was the best possible result anyone could hope for. "She's certainly noticed him now!"

"And _now_ she's crying!" Filia said accusingly as the little girl ran out of the fort.

"Crocodile tears," Xellos said dismissively. "See? She just turned around to stick her tongue out at him. If she's feisty enough to do that then she's fine."

"Well, she certainly doesn't _like_ him for this," Filia said angrily. "Negative attention is not as good as positive attention, you know," she reminded him.

"It's even better."

"It is _not!_ You're missing the point here!"

"And that is?" Xellos asked.

"The point is that he wanted her to _like him_, not hate his guts!"

"Mark my words," Xellos said, "she won't be able to stop thinking about him."

"Because she hates him," Filia clarified.

"It'll start that way, of course," he allowed.

Filia glared. "You know, there are healthier, less manipulative ways to go about a relationship," she said reproachfully.

Xellos shrugged. "I teach what I know," he said.

"Then maybe you shouldn't teach at all!"

"We'll have to have a discussion about our different parenting styles later," Xellos said, looking beyond her. "I think Ginny's mother would like a word with you."

"What?" Filia said, turning around to see a very irate looking woman coming toward her carrying a teary but haughty looking little girl in one arm, and dragging Val by the pointed ear with the other one. She turned around again. Xellos was gone.

"Come back here, you creep!" she shouted at the empty air. "This is all your fault and you have to answer for it!"

But her words echoed in the empty air. She sat back angrily waiting for the inevitable chewing out from Ginny's mother. Here was _one_ woman who wasn't at all impressed by Xellos's tactics.

_But then again_, Filia thought, _maybe Xellos **should** give romantic advice to five-year-olds. After all, he has about their maturity level in that area._

_ Jerk._

_ …_

_ …I wonder when he'll be back?_


	10. Wolves and Their Prey

**Author's Note: **IT'S BEEN TOO LONG! The good news is that 100 Nights of Summer's deadline has been extended, so I should get to do more of these. Here's theme #22.

* * *

**Wolves and Their Prey.**

Really, there is no such sustainable unit as a lone wolf. Oh, lone wolves exist; pushed out by the higher ups in their packs for various crimes against the pack. But a lone wolf is only one step away from death. A wolf by itself will not howl to the lonely moon unless it wants to risk being torn to pieces by either its old pack or a neighboring pack. Wolves have a complicated hierarchy that extends far beyond the alpha pair. Wolves hunt in groups. A wolf by itself cannot scrape by for long in this cold, cruel world. A lone wolf is not _romantic_.

The wolf with the keen eyes and the sleek coat creeping through the underbrush was not a lone wolf. He was from a proud pack that dominated the western edge of the forest. It was one of the biggest packs in the area, though this didn't say much because many packs in the area had been reduced to as little as four adults, which wasn't even much of a pack anymore. It was those damn farms that had cropped up on the town on the edge of the forest. More specifically, it was those damn farmers and their damn guns.

Still, the wolf had to admit that farms had their benefits.

This one was scouting. As indicated, he wasn't a lone wolf, but at the moment he was technically by himself.

And he was _hungry_. This didn't trouble him very much. When you live on the margins, you're _always_ hungry, and to be a wolf is to live on the margins. He was used to the ache in his stomach, sharpening and dulling as time went past.

He knew, though, that even if he came across a meal his hunger would not be assuaged for long. The Alpha pair had bred, and a litter had been born. It was the responsibility of the entire pack to feed them, not just their parents'. Yes, it was the place of the hunters to give up even food that was already in their stomachs for the soft-toothed pups.

He grinned his predator grin. No one expects wolves to be so… altruistic. But there's a certain selfishness even in that act of sacrifice. It's all for the good of the pack. It's _always_ for the good of the pack.

It was up to him to find food and signal to the pack when he had done so. Right now he was easing his way over to the red-washed farmhouse beyond the wood. He sidled along the edge of the forest, staying in the shadows away from any lurking human, and watched.

Wolves don't generally take down large prey unless it's already wounded or sick. But a hole in the back of the hen-house… a break in the wire fence… or just an especially stupid goose sticking its long neck through its pen. That would be just right.

He ceased his silent padding through the shrubbery, tried to slow his panting to below the volume of the noises of the forest, and zeroed in on a shape bending over a puddle outside the safety of the white painted fences.

* * *

Three hundred miles away, in the kitchen of Miss Filia Ul Copt – dragon, single-mother, and successful small business owner – Xellos ruminated. Filia shoved a cup of tea in front of him bad-naturedly and wished he'd go ruminate somewhere else.

He'd often thought back on how it all started, because it had been a moment full of… strangeness. It certainly didn't go the way it should've gone at all. No…

It wasn't hard to grasp that he'd earned the hatred of the dragon race. That was the proper way of things. But he'd also earned their fear. And in a rather negative sense, that meant respect.

But Filia certainly hadn't been at all respectful when they first met. In fact, he distinctly remembered her calling him a creep and building a barbed wire fence around him in a matter of minutes. This had never happened to him before in all his dealings with dragons; even the ones that had been very efficient fence-builders.

There was supposed to have been a, well, a _forced_ politeness. There'd be pride struggling like a maddened snake under the skin, but fear would keep it from escaping. More than fear… it was a terrible certainty of what would happen if they took one false step.

But Filia was all false steps. She wasn't polite in the _least_. She was insulting! She accused, harangued, and scolded. _Him_ of all people.

And it wasn't like she had any sort of excuse. She knew his history. In fact, his history was mostly what she shouted angrily at him. It wasn't as though she had ignorance to excuse her. She _knew._ Could her tiny, dragon brain simply not make the jump from: "Xellos has already killed thousands of my race" to: "I shouldn't call Xellos raw garbage in case he decides to slay me for my insolence"?

But Filia didn't seem to consider that, or if she did she decided to ignore it. Maybe she was too prideful to consider her own mortality. Maybe she'd been so sheltered from living in the temple her whole life that she'd never had to _be_ careful. Maybe, and Xellos tended to think this toward the end of a long day, she's just naturally obnoxious.

She hadn't acted the way she should. And it had been… perplexing. Xellos wasn't often perplexed. His mind was sharp, his knowledge was broad, and his intuition was keen. It wasn't something he had to deal with on a frequent basis.

And, as is so often the case with confusion, it had made him very irritated.

* * *

It was a lamb. The wolf lowered his head below the foliage so that only his eyes peaked beyond the leaves. It had somehow gotten beyond its pen and was nonchalantly drinking from a puddle in the low grass as though it _wasn't_ made of protein.

As the wolf looked closer he realized that this wasn't an ordinary lamb. It wasn't a standard animal for sheering. It was well fed, its coat had been cleaned recently, and it had a shiny bow tied around its neck. Somebody loved this lamb.

The wolf's legs tensed to leap. A pet. A pet on its own was very good luck. A pet did not have the same experience of its wiser, working brethren. A pet would not be able to outrun him. A pet, especially one that seemed to have escaped its pampered life, would not be smart enough to take shelter in the farm.

As he readied to make his leap, he trod on a dry leaf. He cursed his luck as the little lamb looked up. He had precious little time before even a brain as useless as a sheep's got the clue that it might be a good idea to run.

But it didn't run. In fact, it crossed its little streamlet on light, little hooves and looked curiously into the darkness until it spotted the predator. That froze the wolf. This was moron behavior even among sheep.

The lamb watched as the wolf tried to shift his sharp predator mind back into gear in this unprecedented situation. Then it appeared to make up its mind. It lowered its head.

And rammed it straight into the wolf's nose.

* * *

_I mean_, Xellos demanded of no one in particular, _what kind of name is 'raw garbage' to call _anyone_?_

It wasn't the first time he'd asked that. Not by a long shot.

* * *

The wolf pawed at his sore nose, more out of surprise than pain as the lamb trotted off in an apparently self-satisfied way.

It— She— _The lamb_ had just— Where did she get the kind of—

The wolf was just glad that no one else was around to see that little misstep.

But honestly, what kind of sheep does that? Sheep may be stupid, but not _that_ stupid. And just because she was a pet was no real excuse. Surely she'd been born with _some_ instincts in that white, curl covered skull?

She should've at least known, and this is a completely _random_ example, that _you do not head-butt a hungry wolf if you are a delicious lamb_. Did someone honestly need to write that down? Did there need to be _lessons_ for something so obvious?

It's not a complicated system. Predators attack; prey run. Come to think of it, predators run too. But predators run _to_, prey runs away _from_.

If prey starts attacking predators then the whole system falls down. It's anarchy, is what it is.

He got up and tried to suppress a whine as his tender nose sniffed the air. He watched as the lamb walked off into the forest with her head held high and entirely too much flounce for an ungulate.

She wasn't going to get away with this.

He leaned low and tracked her through the trees.

* * *

Xellos had to admit that he'd been a bit impressed by Filia's gall. That is… it had left an impression on him at least.

Pushing buttons to see when someone would snap was a… hobby, you could say. Filia was clearly _all_ buttons and snapped on such a regular basis that to still be together she must have possessed some truly elastic qualities.

And perhaps at a certain point she became… a little refreshing.

* * *

It wasn't a matter of when the wolf could attack the lamb. The lamb walked through the forest in the open, with such little care for her safety that a half a dozen hawks might have been able to band together and lift her away. He had plenty of time to take care of the lamb. Which was perhaps why he didn't.

He started to wonder about her. Clearly this wasn't an ordinary lamb if she would go so far as to attack a wolf. Hadn't she ever seen a wolf before? Hadn't she heard the barking in the night and come out to the pens only to find one of her siblings missing? Could she at least sense, somewhere deep in her ancestral memory, that things with claws and sharp teeth should be feared?

And he wondered even more where she was going. This was new territory for him. The minutiae of life in non-wolves hadn't frequently entered his arrow-like mind. Why should he care, beyond a surveillance perspective, what others would do? Knowing that the rabbits always burrow _here_ is important to know for the next meal. But if you concern yourself in Mister Rabbit's secret blueberry addiction and Mrs. Rabbits worry that the kits weren't coming along very well in the hopping and scampering department, then you're just _losing it_ as a predator.

But nevertheless he wondered. What could a pampered pet like this be doing out in the woods? Why would she want to leave the comfort of the farm for? She looked like she was well treated. She probably belonged to the farmer's daughter. Girls tended to tie bows around things for some reasons.

He couldn't think of anything in the forest that could be worth leaving shelter and daily meals for. Nothing at all.

She knew he was following him, and that irritated him especially. It didn't say much for his credibility as a stealth hunter if even she could pick him out. But she'd looked back at him, directly in the eye with those strange rectangular pupils her kind had. Then she'd turned her glance away pointedly as if she had better things to do than spend her time looking at him.

That had served to only make him angrier. He growled softly, but she ignored him.

Just you wait. He crept through the underbrush after her. You'll learn your folly…

…but later.

* * *

Xellos had long ago decided that it would be worthwhile to keep an eye on Filia.

Because she wasn't _stupid_. He'd had to admit that very grudgingly. Oh, she could be flighty and rely on her emotions which made her do stupid things. But she wasn't stupid. Filia had a battering-ram of an intellect. It couldn't deal in complications, but for the most part it didn't need to, it just smashed to the core of the problem and overwhelmed until it got results.

It is said that such people bear watching: from a distance.

But Xellos knew that only by close observation could he ever really understand.

* * *

The lamb stopped and sat by the bank of the stream, staring up at the rocks as the trickling of water overwhelmed the singing of the insects and the howl of the wind.

The wolf stopped and watched the lamb. Was this it? Was this all she'd escaped captivity to see?

Hesitantly, he approached her. She bleated disapprovingly at him several times, but did nothing more. She turned her gaze back to the…

…waterfall. He was looking at it too now. He'd come to this place on many occasions for a quick drink of water before the hunt could recommence. He'd never thought of it as particularly impressive.

But suddenly, as he looked at her, it seemed to change before his eyes. The rocks went up high, and the water flowed out from between them in glassy sheets. It was an icy taste from where the forest turned into highlands, and the highlands turned into mountains. The circle of trees around it let the sun in, and cast multicolored refractions in the misty air.

He'd never tried looking at things from another's perspective before. Oh, sure, he'd thought of the pack. But the pack was simply a larger organism that he was a part of. The lamb was something… other. And seeing through her eyes was strange… and beautiful.

She got up, seemingly satisfied with what she'd seen, and walked back along the path she'd come along and back toward the farm house.

She stepped on his tail along the way.

* * *

And yes, Xellos had to admit, on some level he'd gotten… used to Filia. She had a way of filling the days. Life would've been significantly duller without her around.

His thoughts were interrupted by a feather duster plunged into his face. He looked beyond it to see Filia glaring at him, with one 'I mean business!' hand on her hip.

"If you're going to loiter here all the time than you could at least do something useful," she said sharply as he took the duster in a numb sort of way. "I'm going to clean in the storeroom and you might try to help!" She stormed off down the hall.

Xellos followed her. The thing about Filia was that she was different. He was sure that the dragon elders at the temple had tried to stifle the audacity out of her. But what could you do? Filia was just _bold_. In many ways it wasn't a good thing, but it wasn't a bad thing either.

"And don't you _dare_ break anything!" she warned, as they reached the storeroom lined with vases. "It's _art_, okay? And I don't want you making a mess."

"Art?" Xellos said, taking in the distance the vases were spaced from each other. "Silly me. I thought they were just overpriced tourist fodder. Tell me, Filia, which one is more artistic? The one that says 'Have Vases, Not Vices!' or 'To the World's Best Mom'?"

"Oh, just be quiet and get dusting!" Filia shouted, taking up a polish and gently applying it to her work with a rag.

Xellos shrugged and moved to a likely shelf.

It was true that everything could get complicated. Filia was a dragon. Monsters aren't supposed to spend all their spare time with dragons under the normal rules. But then again, the normal rules had no _understanding_.

Filia was the last of the Fire Dragon King's servants. She was also the caretaker of the only remaining Ancient Dragon in the world. If war broke out, she was in for a world of hurt, and likely he'd be the one expected to inflict it.

But it didn't _have_ to be complicated. She wasn't interfering or anything. She practically lived like a human. Instead of concentrating her talents on where they could do harm, she spent them buying and selling antiques and raising her son. She was trying to be _normal_.

There was no need to do anything about her. She was no harm, and Xellos had his suspicions that if she were so inclined she could actually be quite useful.

It would all be fine. He could keep this; whatever it was that _this_ was. He was minding all the spinning plates that could lead to catastrophe. He had everything completely under his control. And if it all must end someday, he could deal with that too. After all, he was a monster.

There was a horrible shatter of pottery as one tall vase that Xellos had been cleaning fell into the one next to it, causing a domino effect across the entire shelf.

"XELLOS!" he heard Filia shriek as the clatter subsided.

He smiled to himself. It was alright. This was alright. It wasn't as though he'd ever have to pay a price for it or anything.

* * *

The wolf tracked the lamb on the path back to the farm. He'd tried walking beside her for part of the time, but she had a mean kick. Best to watch her from the sidelines.

He'd intended to make his kill as soon as he'd satisfied his curiosity enough by finding out where she was going. But he'd decided just lately not to kill her. She'd at least shown him an interesting day.

And anyway, it was hard to think of her like the other sheep who did nothing but chew grass all day with constipated expressions. She was an individual, set apart from the mindless throng. There were plenty of sheep in the world. He didn't need to kill _her_.

After all, he'd experienced so many things that day that evolution had denied him the luxury of: curiosity, empathy, wonder, confusion, and…

…something that he couldn't quite put a name to that had kept him tracking her even after he'd seen the waterfall and decided not to kill her.

The day would bring no food, but that was alright. Many days didn't. True, if the pack found out he'd let this one go there'd probably be a fight and he'd be pushed out. But they didn't have to find out. Many scouters had come back without meat or news of likely prey. There would be nothing suspicious about it.

And she could go back to the safety of her farm and away from the dangerous woods. But maybe he could watch her from time to time. That would be fine. Only when he was on his way on another hunt. He wouldn't go out of his way or anything.

He froze as a familiar smell hit his nose. He barely suppressed a growl as he focused his motion-sensitive eyesight on the path ahead while he concealed himself behind a bush. He found what he was looking for, but hoped wouldn't be there.

A few feet away from the oncoming path of the lamb was another wolf. It wasn't just any wolf. It was a member of the wolf's own pack. It had spotted the unsuspecting lamb from the other direction, and was poised to leap.

The wolf's hair stood on end as his shoulder-blades rose together in barely suppressed rage. For another wolf to take the prey he'd been stalking all day was intolerable. It was not for the other wolf to decide what happened to her!

Moreover, the portion of his brain that went into action when a shotgun blast was heard, or a large, mad elk lowered its head to charge, seemed strangely to be activated. And he thought of the hunt.

Humans tend to think of wolves as the spirit of the hunt, and thus believe them to be terribly efficient killers. They're not. They're far worse than that. They're terribly _inefficient_ killers.

Now a wild cat, _that's_ an efficient killer. They've got the jaws for killing. A clamp from their jaws is enough to silence its struggling prey in mere moments. Wolves just don't have that kind of jaw.

When wolves kill it can take hours; blood-soaked hours as the hapless animal is battered back and forth in the grip of the wolf's teeth. It's not a pleasant way to die: waiting for your neck to be broken.

The lamb didn't see it. She didn't see the other wolf.

He ground his meat-tearing teeth together and leapt.

The lamb stepped backward in surprise. All the fear that she probably owed that day came into her eyes as she saw the wolf that had been following her all day leap upon another surprised wolf that she hadn't seen, and the clearing erupted into a fit of growling, screaming, and flying fur and blood.

The wolf watched her panic stricken eyes as it tried to get his jaws around the interloper's neck.

There will be a price to pay for this, no matter what happens.


	11. Good Deeds

**Good Deeds.**

It had all started so – for want of a better word – _innocently, _Xellos reflected as he made his way through the inferno of timber and smoke that he found himself in. But things were rapidly getting out of control.

It came down to… well, self-destructive behavior of a certain kind. Take humans; they weren't _supposed_ to try to destroy themselves, but they often felt an… an unnatural _itch_ to do so. To take that drink after they're already too far gone, to inject something poisonous into their veins, to kill by inches and _be_ killed by inches.

Of course, a lot of these inclinations were pleasure-based, but just as many of them were pain-based. Humans had an… inclination for danger and destruction. It wasn't held as positive, and it was always met with attempts at suppression, but still, it was there.

But destruction is a monster's bread and butter. Hence, Xellos found himself drawn into a rather different kind of trouble…

It wasn't as though he was a stranger to acts the might be seen from the outside as heroism. Life was… complicated, and sometimes it was so much easier, so much _better_ to accomplish things with the carrot than the stick. Traveling with Miss Lina and the others often had such component situations. They were useful people and it was best that they remain alive so that they could continue being useful. That was just being _practical_.

He'd always had an agenda in those situations. And that was the way it should be. But now…

…He blamed Filia for this entire mess, he really did. After all, _Amelia_ had gone on about justice and virtue before and he'd _never_ done anything like…

Filia's self-righteous attitude just got to him. Her smug 'Oh a fiend like _you_ that can't create anything so he can only destroy couldn't possibly understand the simple joy of helping others! Now shut up while I subject anyone who disagrees with me to a mace-thrashing and call that doing what's right!' routine was just plain annoying. He usually found hypocrisy funny; but from Filia? It just set his teeth on edge.

And he'd desperately wanted to disillusion her. This wasn't hard to do and there was no reason he had to abandon the monster race's agenda to do so.

He'd saved her life on a few occasions. There was nothing wrong with that; no questions were asked of him. She had been useful then and could be useful in the future. Letting something happen to her would've been an unnecessary waste.

…But the problem was, he realized, that wasn't why he did it. He'd done it for that _look_. That shocked look she gave when the universe as she knew it became senseless. When he could look back into her startled eyes and say: _That's right, Filia. That fiend who can only destroy just. saved. your. life._

And to do something like that, not because it's practical, but because it's enjoyable is… a slippery slope.

…Very slippery apparently.

After that, he'd occasionally stopped by Filia's shop. She might not have been very charitable where _he_ was concerned, but she was very much into charity. Xellos tended to think that she used charity as a chance to whack people over the head with the metaphorical mace of morality. She just… took over. Wives that had run charity drives, bake sales, and soup kitchens were forced to sit on their hands as Filia, the tyrant of all organized events, lay waste to their leadership efforts and took the mantle of piety off their still stunned shoulders.

Xellos said she was a control freak. Filia said that she was just trying to help and that he wouldn't _understand, now would he?_

She _always_ made comments like that, and he knew they shouldn't bother him. But they stuck like thorns in his side. So he did the only thing he _could_ do. He showed her up on her own turf at every possible opportunity.

And it had worked too. He'd been much better at it than she was (except for one unfortunate incident of mass food poisoning at the soup kitchen that it was just better not to refer to). And she couldn't stand it! It was fantastic and just went to show that she was only into the charity business for the chance to boss others around and look good doing it.

They say that doing good deeds is meant to cause a warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart. If by 'warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart' they meant a feeling of nausea and a distaste for the smell of hobos, then Xellos had felt it.

But it was unfair to say that there were no rewards attached to it. If there weren't he wouldn't be in the fix he was in. He'd learned that when he'd dispatched with the robber that broke into Filia's shop. The thing was… just because deeds were _good_ didn't meant they didn't involve violence.

He frowned at the memory. The stupid, stubborn dragon girl couldn't even manage to be happy _then_. She'd yelled at him for hurting the guy. He barely touched him…

And that's when the trouble _really_ started. There was a high attached to that kind of vigilante act. What made it worse was that he was out doing things he wasn't really supposed to do. As he'd said so often to Filia, prohibition tends to make things more attractive.

So he'd started justifying it. He'd killed petty criminals so that… so that they wouldn't kill some kid's parents and cause him to grow up to be a caped crusader for good in the future. That made sense, right?

These nighttime jaunts were getting risky though. He was in the midst of a dire addiction and he knew it.

_But_, he thought, as he reached the lawn beyond the smoldering wreckage of the inferno that used to be someone's house and set down his heavy cargo: a man, his wife, and a child, _I can quit anytime I like_.

He looked down at them as they coughed the smoke out of their lungs and got to their feet. They looked like… troublemakers, he decided. Surely the world was a more discordant place with them alive. It was alright.

The child sniffed and bellowed: "But Mittens is still in there!" She looked up at Xellos with wide, pleading eyes.

_Oh no,_ Xellos thought. _Not the cat._

Xellos had nothing against cats. After a fashion, he sort of liked them. Their solitary nature, their arrogant charm, their tendency to bite any hand whether it fed or not. But that wasn't the _point_. The point was that there was a certain kind of person that went into a burning building after a cat, and that was a _hero._

Which he wasn't!

But he could practically hear Filia's voice in his head: "I can't believe you wouldn't go back for the cat, you vicious beast! You probably just saved that kid so she could be sad about her cat dying and you could feed off that despair! You're just _twisted_ like that."

So he went back in. The suffocating heat of the oven that was once someone's home didn't faze him at all.

He found the cat hiding under a desk. It greeted him in the traditional way of its kind by hissing and swatting at him with its claws. Xellos unconcernedly picked it up and tucked it under his arm letting it go about its futile business of lacerating his arm, and headed out the door.

…the back door. Because he wasn't about to let them put him in the local paper as a saver of cats. It was just too much. He set the cat in the direction of its family and let it scamper off at its own will.

He stood there for a moment, the fire still roaring and crackling behind him. Even in the midst of knowing that this had been a stupid, risky, pointless way to spend an evening he felt it… the best way to describe it would be to call it a rapid cooling sensation. It was like the feeling after running long distances or of just barely getting away with a crime. It was flying high.

"The cat too? We really _do_ have a problem here," said a voice behind him.

Xellos's high was replaced with dread. He very slowly turned around.

There, leaning on the charred siding of the burning house, in close enough proximity to die of smoke inhalation were that a problem she even had to think about in the slightest, stood Xellos's Lord, Creator, and Master. She held her pipe close to the inferno long enough for it to catch ablaze.

She held it between her teeth and took a drag, blowing blue smoke into the already foggy air. "There's a word for the kind of person that goes back for the cat," she said calmly. "I think it's idiot."

Well, that had been Xellos's second guess. He stood stock still and silent, trying to figure out how to outrun the catastrophe train.

"You're not going to try to tell me that saving that family was actually helpful to me, are you?" Zelas asked, one eyebrow raised.

Xellos knew better than that. "No, Lord Beastmaster," he confessed, trying to plaster that careless smile back on his face but not doing a very good job of it. "It doesn't help at all."

"But," he added, in the face of that intense stare, "it doesn't hurt at all."

"Does it?" Zelas asked coolly. "You don't think this is a problem?"

Zelas brushed her hair back from her face as Xellos tried to come up with an answer. She put a hand on her hip and looked up into the night sky. "I should've known something like this would happen when you wanted to start playing with dragons," she breathed, as though half talking to herself.

The anchor tied to Xellos's dread sunk further.

"Still," Zelas said thoughtfully, in a way that barely caused Xellos to dare to hope that he'd escape from this situation unscathed, "I get the feeling that a similar phenomenon is happening to your little Filia, but in reverse. Something like that could be useful yet."

"What do you think, Xellos?" she asked. "Are you still in the mood to play with dragons?" Her grin was predatory. He'd seen it many times before, he'd used it many times himself.

"Yes, Lord Beastmaster."

No good deed goes unpunished. No bad act goes unrewarded.


	12. Amusement Park

**Amusement Park.**

The county fair should've been the highlight of Filia's summer. It brought new and exciting sights from throughout the area, rewarding business opportunities at the crafts section of the fair, and plenty of time to spend with Val. Normally, she'd have looked forward to it, but all she could feel as she passed out tickets from under the awning that was the only thing standing between her and the heat of the sun was dread. And it was all Xellos's fault.

Sure, Xellos had a history of showing up to ruin her life on a regular basis, but the county fair was something else entirely. Maybe it was just because the county fair _should have been_ fun, maybe it was because there was an audience to her humiliation, but his antics at the county fair always struck her as particularly horrible.

Let's see… he had always one-upped her in any contest or game she tried. There had been the high striker game, the ring toss, the gold-fish catching game, the arm wrestling competition… his only real failure had been the pie baking contest which had resulted in two of the judges going home sick and one of them spending the next four hours in the port-a-potty. Other than that, Xellos delighted in trumping her at any way he could. At the end of the day he would be smugly carting around armfuls of trophies, ribbons, and stuffed animal prizes while Filia carried dinkier trophies, second-place ribbons, and lollipops given to her by any carnival game operators who felt sorry for her.

And her expo table was always a nightmare of shattering ceramic and pottery shard wounds. It was hard to get fair-goers interested in her wares when Xellos kept reminding everyone how breakable they were.

She shuddered to herself. But the _worst_ of it had been during the picnic basket auction. People _still_ talked about that one. It had been a few years ago and the fair committee was trying a new charity ploy to raise funds for a roof for the schoolhouse. So they'd gotten a bunch of the women in town together to make homemade picnic lunches. Then the men at the fair would bid for the lunch of their choice (and, more importantly, a certain companion to eat it with). It was a set-up based on charitable intentions, an appreciation for good cooking, and male loneliness.

Filia hadn't been so hot on the idea when she'd been asked to take part in it. Then again, it _was_ for a good cause and all she was being asked to do was make and eat a lunch when you got right down to it. So she'd agreed.

The auction took place on the last day of the fair and she'd been in very high spirits. The expo table had done well, Val was having a blast, and Xellos hadn't shown up once. She'd started to think he had better things to do then spoil her good time. Little did she know what was about to unfold.

After several young ladies had auctioned off their lunches and a decent pool of money had been collected, it was Filia's turn. The bidding was going pretty well… she wasn't sure if she should take that as a self-esteem boost or not, when…

"500," a voice called lazily from the crowd.

Filia froze on the podium. She knew that voice.

"What?" Xellos asked, looking curiously at the slack-jawed crowd. "I thought this was an auction."

It was an auction. And the last bid had been an already-too-generous 25. But Xellos just had to go and bid _twenty times that amount!_

Filia looked around wildly at the crowd, but no one else thought spending that amount on lunch was sane.

"Well," the auctioneer had said with a slightly shocked smile. "I guess that's sol—"

"501!" Filia shouted out, elbowing the man out of the way.

The auctioneer gave her a worried look. "Umm… Miss, you can't bid on yourself."

"I don't see why not!" Filia cried out, close to hysteria. "If I win then I can just eat lunch by myself!"

"600," Xellos added calmly from the crowd.

Filia gritted her teeth. "601," she said in a pained voice. _Damn it._ She'd really wanted a new pottery wheel too…

"1000," Xellos said in an affectedly offhand sort of way.

Filia may have chipped a tooth at this point. The auctioneer gave her a doubtful look. "Any further bets?" he'd asked.

Filia made a helpless sort of sound, then looked down and shook her head.

"Alright," the auctioneer said brightly. "Sold to the man with the staff! And I daresay we've gone and raised enough for a schoolhouse roof earlier than any of us expected!"

_Yeah, more like a roof and a half_, Filia'd thought bitterly, biting her lip.

That showoffy jerk! Did he just enjoy making a spectacle of her in public or something? ARGH! Just _thinking_ about it made her want knock that stupid smile off his face!

When she'd questioned/threatened him about it at their inevitable picnic table meeting later, he'd played innocent. He said that all he'd been trying to do was contribute to a worthy civil works project. That made Xellos a liar, a cheat, _and_ a potato salad hog.

File that incident under 'unpleasant conversations with Xellos', but they were _all_ unpleasant when it came to him! That particular meeting had ended in an overturned picnic table and a solemn vow to never participate in a farce like that again.

Of course… she still volunteered.

Well, she was a respected member of the community! It was downright expected of her. Anyway, she liked to help. She was just more… discerning about what jobs she took nowadays. That was why she'd stoutly refused both the kissing booth and the dunking booth when offered to her. To be fair, she would've said no to both of those anyway, but the Xellos factor just made her all the more insistent that it wasn't gonna happen.

So she'd taken a safe little job running the Ferris wheel on the last day. It was a nice job, she got to see a lot of the children she recognized from Val's class, and Xellos couldn't do much with something like that.

…At least… she didn't think so…

She cringed. This was the day it would happen. He hadn't shown up any of the previous days when she'd been running her pottery table or taking Val around. Experience told her not to let her guard down. He'd show eventually… he always did. And then there'd be trouble.

"Mommy!"

Filia abandoned her inner torment over what the future might hold for a moment as she look up and saw Val approaching at a run with Jillas close behind. He had a balloon in his hand.

"Val!" Filia said warmly as he approached her ticket booth. "How are you doing, sweetie? Are you and Jillas having fun?"

"I petted a sheep," Val said, as if that was all that needed to be said on that subject.

"Good," Filia said vaguely, looking at Jillas out of the corner of her eye as she asked, "did you wash your hands?"

"'es," Val said.

Filia clasped her hands together eagerly. "So, did you two want to ride the Ferris wheel?"

"'es," Val said again. "But Mommy, I wanna know: when's Xewwos gonna get here?"

Filia groaned. Val had gotten rather stuck on the idea of Xellos showing up at the fair ever since an incident two years ago. They'd been at the petting zoo when Xellos had 'accidentally' (so he claimed) dumped a food pellet bag over the child's head causing all the animals to swarm around him. That's right: Xellos had tried to _feed her child to goats_. As if she didn't already have plenty of good excuses to hate him. But for some reason, Val had thought all of this was very funny and meeting Xellos had become one of the high points of the fair for him. Go figure kids.

"He's _not_ coming," Filia said in a probably-too-sharp voice as she plunked the Ferris wheel tickets into Jillas's outstretched hand.

"Why not?" Val asked, wide eyed.

"I told him not to," Filia said firmly.

"Wait…" Jillas said, cutting in. "You don't think 'e's coming, because you told 'im not to?"

"Yes," Filia said firmly, not about to betray her own fears for the day ahead.

Jillas was silent for a minute. "But boss, you tell 'im that _every_ year!"

Filia gave Jillas a look that froze his expression. He held up a hand. "O' course, you were _really_ firm last year. You're right. There's no _way_ 'e's coming back after that!"

"Right," Filia said with a determined nod.

As Filia watched the two of them get into their Ferris wheel car, her determination faded away. Her shoulders slumped. There was no getting out of it. Xellos _would_ show up sometime during the day for his annual make-Filia's-life-a-living-hell festivities. But what could he do? After all these years, she felt that she was prepared for practically anything he could dish out. What could he be scheming…

_Oh no…_ Filia thought, staring at the Ferris wheel as a flash of insight took her.

That was right! The Ferris wheel stopped at the top so that the people in the cars could see the entire fairgrounds and enjoy the view. She didn't know how it would happen, but she just _knew_… she could see it as clear as if it was happening right then… Xellos would get her up there somehow… the car would stop… _and it wouldn't start moving again._

She put a hand to her heart and tried to calm her breathing. No, _no_. That wasn't going to happen. Now that she'd thought that, there was no way he could trick her into getting in that car. She was totally on top of the situation. Nothing to worry about.

"Snow cone, Miss?

Filia screamed.

* * *

Okay, so maybe screaming at innocent snow cone vendors was not the action of a totally prepared and well-adjusted person. And maybe she'd overreacted in throwing a rock at that bandleader, but it wasn't her fault! He shouldn't've gone around with that baton which could've easily been mistaken for a staff! And only sociopaths like hairstyles like that!

The balloon seller had taken up a position right outside the Ferris wheel line, all the better to sell whiny kids balloons. He had them in all different colors and the kids could pick their favorite. Whenever anyone said 'purple' Filia visibly twitched.

So… she might not have been calm. But that was fine. She was wary! She was on the lookout for any sign of him. She was wise to his tricks! He wouldn't get the drop on her this time…

She kept turning around in case he tried to tap her on the shoulder.

* * *

"No," Filia said numbly as Mister Farrier, the organizer of the fair, came up to her several hours later.

"'Fraid so," he said with a grin. "Time flies, don't it? But you've done a great job, Miss. Don't think I don't appreciate it. The clean-up crew will be around in about an hour to take care of packing things up. You can head on home."

Filia looked around from one side to the other. "He'll be here," she said quietly. "He's just waiting for me to relax and then…"

"Umm… who?" Mister Farrier asked.

Filia closed her eyes, shook her head, and said: "No one. Don't worry about it." Then she gave a false little smile and said: "You go on. I'm just… going to hang around here for a little while longer."

Mister Farrier gave an understanding smile. "Sure," he said, putting on his hat and walking toward the exit. He gave a wave. "Good evening, Miss Filia."

Filia smiled and nodded back, but the moment he was out of sight her smile dropped. She stepped out of her booth and looked around. The summer sun had set. It was dark and cool now, and all the milling children were gone. The empty fairgrounds were a completely different place.

She subjected her surroundings to a penetrating glare. "I know you're here," she said sourly. "Why don't you just come out?"

There was no response. She looked up at the Ferris wheel, sighed, and walked toward it. She approached the control lever and flipped it, causing the structure to jerk into life. As the slowly rocking carriages filed one by one onto the loading dock, she climbed into one of them with a stony expression and stared out into the night as the rig climbed.

When she reached the very top the machine stopped as it always did, allowing her to take in the full splendor of the abandoned fairgrounds. The moon was big that night and seemed to hint at the coming autumn.

She stood up, which was technically against the rules, and leaned against the railing. The high winds streamed her hair back from her face and whipped at her dress. She looked this way and that.

Then she yelled loud enough to cause the fairgrounds to shake with echoes: "WHERE ARE YOU, XELLOS?"

* * *

Xellos weaved in and out of the astral plane, leaving a line of afterimages as he teleported from dark cliff to dark cliff. The ruins were just ahead…

It was a shame, he reflected. He'd come to look forward to Achaea's county fairs. But… well… his other duties had to come first. He couldn't very well use a summer festival as an excuse for playing hooky.

Without him there, Filia would have no choice but to sabotage herself all on her own. The good news was that she was already so _good_ at that. It was such a shame to miss the fireworks though…

He smiled in the darkness where no one could see him, then parted his lips in the emptiness where no one could hear him and said quietly: "Don't miss me too much, Filia."


	13. Flower Garden

**Flower Garden.**

The sun went away as Filia put yet another daisy in her basket. She looked up to see what was casting the shadow over her, but knew deep down who it would be.

"What are you doing here?" she asked numbly.

Xellos ignored her question, seemingly too absorbed in the process of taking in his surroundings. "We can't be on holy ground," he said, nodding at the structure in the distance. "So is this an evil garden?"

Filia stood up so that he couldn't look down on her any more than he usually did. She clutched her basket of flowers to her side and answered harshly: "Not evil, just not holy."

"I thought they were one in the same to you dragons," Xellos responded smoothly. He looked into the distance once again. "Speaking of…"

Filia wilted visibly. The freshly picked stems looked livelier than she did.

"I think the real question is: what are _you_ doing here?" Xellos asked, gesturing with his staff to the temple over the hill.

Filia toyed with the petal of a yellow flower, but did not answer. Not yet.

"I thought you'd abandoned cloistered temple life," he said. "I thought you'd made a _decision_. And now I find you've come crawling back to the saintly lifestyle of lighting incense and singing songs about dead gods." He sounded disappointed in her.

"You left with such conviction," he went on, "that I can't believe you'd come back here just on a whim." He looked at her critically. "Are you hiding from me?"

That was too much for Filia. She wanted to throw something at him, but all she had was flowers. Feeling that that wouldn't really make her point, she satisfied herself with a scowl in his direction. "Hardly," she scoffed. "And what do you mean 'back here'?" she demanded. "I think you're confusing temples."

"Not really," Xellos said, casting his gaze once again on the temple of Earthlord Rangort. "It's just that one temple is the same as another."

"Maybe to you," Filia responded bitterly.

"Maybe," Xellos allowed. "But that still doesn't explain why your house is empty and your shop is closed. It doesn't explain why you're _here_, Filia."

Filia averted her eyes. It wasn't fair that someone like him could make her feel guilty. It was probably just his penchant for picking apart anything she said or did. She could never be _right_ in his books. Then again, why would she want his approval anyway? "I'm here for Val," she said in a quiet voice.

"For Val?" Xellos repeated with a humorless laugh. "You left for Val."

"I know," Filia said, still turned away.

"You're not going to tell me 'it's different now' are you?" Xellos asked as though she was about to get tiresome.

Filia glared at him. "You don't understand," she said. "It may not seem right, but this is the only chance Val has to be raised amongst his own kind. The people in my to— in my _old_ town were kind, but they didn't know how different he was from them."

"Kind, but not his kind?" Xellos taunted.

Filia ignored this. "Can you imagine him going to a human school? He'll never learn all the things I learned growing up, he'll never fly on Saint's Day, he'll never have his first consecration ceremony… he'll never be surrounded by an entire group of people with the same problems he's facing. People he can talk to who will understand him. He'll only have me, and I'm not enough…" she trailed off sadly. "He deserves to be among his people."

"His people," Xellos reminded her, "are dead." He paused. "Or perhaps a more specific word would serve us better here? How about destroyed? Massacred? Decimated? Slaughtered? Exterminated?"

"They're all words you're very fond of," Filia responded sharply, a lump forming in her throat.

"And by _whom?_" Xellos asked, railroading over her comment.

"They're still dragons," Filia insisted. "They've been very kind to him since we came here and I'm… careful."

"Oh, I see," Xellos said, his tone speaking volumes for what he thought about Filia's supposed carefulness.

"Don't pretend you care even a little bit about Val's well-being," she said, changing tacks with a growl.

Xellos put on a mock hurt expression. "Quite the contrary, Filia," he said. "I am deeply concerned for Val's safety."

"_Ha!_" Filia shot back disdainfully, taking a confrontational step forward. "And that's the other thing, now isn't it? _You_ can't get to him here. Not easily at any rate." She narrowed her eyes. "Do you just think I'm stupid or something? Do you think I don't know what you've been doing? Did you expect me to believe that you were just playing house for the fun of it? _Ha!_" she said again, and again: nothing was funny.

She pointed at him. "You think I don't know the power he has? You tried to get him on your side once long ago and you'll do it again if you get the chance. That's why you've been weaseling your way close to both of us!" Her voice broke. When she spoke again her voice was low: "I won't let that happen. I'll do _anything_ to stop that from happening."

Xellos surveyed her bristling, indignant form. "So you _are_ hiding from me," he said.

Filia drew back as if slapped. "I'm not hiding," she said thickly.

"Really," Xellos said in such a disbelieving tone that it wasn't even a question. "Then what would you call it?"

"I'm protecting my son," Filia said, her voice weakened but still forceful like a battering ram sob.

Xellos watched her in silence for another moment. "If that's the case," he said slowly, "then it might be worth remembering that your temple friends have at least as many crooked motives where your son is concerned as you suspect me of having. And no matter how," his eyes flicked open, "_careful_ you are, you won't be able to stop them. At least… not on your own."

"Oh, what?" Filia scoffed. "Am I supposed to look to you to protect us? How can you honestly expect me to believe you'd do that?"

Xellos frowned and knitted his brows in thought. "I don't…" he began as though searching for the right words, "_expect_ you to. I just know that you do."

Filia stared at him. There was really nothing else she could do.

"But I can see you need time to think things over," he said, putting his customary smile back into place. "I'll be calling on you again, though not in _there_," he said, gesturing to the temple once again with his staff as he turned to leave. "So I suppose if you're really set on avoiding me you'll just have to cut out these botanical excursions." He looked back at her once again with a serious expression. "Lock yourself away in the temple if you think it'll help," he intoned, eyes boring into her.

She watched him in stunned silence as he exited the garden. He stepped over the rows of mums, and daisies, and primrose until he reached the path. He walked around the flowers so as not to crush them.

_He walked around the flowers so as not to crush them. Now what kind of monster does that?_


	14. Gemstones

**Author's Note: **Well, BE's contest is over (and in voting limbo, sadly), but I'm still itching to work with these themes. Sorry for the break, but check out this new one. And happy holidays!

* * *

**Gemstones.**

Filia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hands were feeling raw, dust was filling her lungs, and she had that Spring Cleaning high. Between caring for Val and running the shop, she'd been letting cleaning fall by the wayside lately. Well, no more. Filia had her mop out and she meant business.

She didn't dislike cleaning. It was simply work that had to be done. If one wanted to run a successful household and business, one had to be conscientious about things like that.

And organizing… organizing actually had its own quiet joys.

Filia opened the top drawer. She'd swept out the shop, took apart and cleaned the cash register, dusted the shelves and come up with a new cataloguing system for the maces. Then she'd moved on to the house: mopping up the kitchen, tossing what needed to be tossed from the pantry, freaking out when she found a dead mouse, etcetera, etcetera. Etcetera _forever_.

But the top drawer was something that passed between shop and home. Oh, it was technically in her living room, but nevertheless it contained a lot of supplies that she used to make her vases. There was clay there and glaze, but mostly there were jars and jars of different paints. It was supposed to be her back-up supply for when she ran out of resources in the shop, but over the years it had managed to gain other purposes. She could see Val's watercolor set crusting away in the sea of tightly wound thread and her tomato-and-strawberry pin cushion. There were patches and yarn and stationary and ink pots and quills.

It was the famed _craft drawer_ and it was overflowing. It had started with good intentions, but it needed a serious clean sweep. She began taking everything out bit by bit and separating things into piles. The old or redundant paints went in the 'toss' pile; the glazes went in the 'keep' pile—she could always use more of those; and a few of the prettier but somewhat unnecessary items made it into the 'maybe' pile.

As she dug deeper she found other things—doodads. There were loose beads, dried flowers and leafs, shells, and plenty of little decorative stones. She'd picked them up over the years and had kept them for vase decoration. She selected a few small decorative stones and beads and put them into a small glass box to keep them organized, but the rest she lobbed into the 'toss' pile. They were nice items, but if she hadn't used them yet then it was unlikely that she'd ever use them. As it was they were just taking up space.

She reached in to take out the last remaining objects from the drawer to face her judgment. She held two of them, one in each hand, and half-sat, half-collapsed to the floor. "Oh," she said out loud.

They were circular gemstones, yellow in color, and on the large side. She'd almost forgotten that she…

She shook her head and glared at the gems. A souvenir from the temple of marriage? Not likely! As if she'd ever want to remember that awful experience—the absolute _indignity _of getting paired up with that monster!

Of course, it had all turned out to be a scheme of Jillas's to turn them against one another and not some legitimate prophecy. _Of course_ it had. _Her_ married to Xellos? The very idea was utterly ridiculous!

But she'd picked up the two gems that declared them 'the gods' chosen couple'. All of them had thrown theirs at Gourry and after Xellos had abandoned her outside the temple and the others had gone off on their fool's errand she'd just seen them all sitting there in a bunch along with one of Gourry's teeth. So she'd… picked the gemstones up and put them away in her bag, never mentioning a word of it to anyone.

_Not_ for any sentimental reasons, obviously. The only kind of sentiments Filia could attach to that incident were probably unprintable. It was just… well, even then before she'd made the decision to open up her shop she'd had an eye for that kind of thing. They were pretty, and it was a shame to let them go to waste. She was certain she'd find _some_ use for them.

She hadn't picked up Miss Lina, Mister Zelgadis, Miss Amelia, and Mister Gourry's gemstones because… well, the gold ones had a much nicer color. Yes. The red and blue ones she didn't think she'd be able to use.

…Not that she'd ever actually used these, she thought, staring down at them. And she could see why now. They were certainly pretty but they were… cheap. She could see the air pockets and imperfections as she looked with a more critical eye. They were the kind of fare that ended up as decoration in people's gardens. Plus they'd been scratched up in the drawer. As it was, they were probably much too big to use for anything. Maybe a paperweight if she could find some kind of holder for them to rest in, but…

She wasn't going to use them, she knew, and they were just taking up space. Anyway, they were a reminder of a nasty incident and it probably just made her look a little crazy for keeping them this whole time. She turned around and looked at the 'keep' pile. They didn't belong there. The 'maybe' pile? No. She looked at the 'toss' pile. Then she looked back at the golden orbs in her hands. She hesitated.

The longer it took, the angrier she was with herself. It shouldn't even be a question, she thought forcefully. They're garbage! _He's_ garbage. And what do you do with garbage? You throw it out, that's what!

She slowly, with her eyes closed and her teeth clenched, placed them in the 'toss' pile, but before they'd even left her hands she swung around and put them back in the drawer.

_Well, it's not as if they're doing any harm_, she thought, turning around to gather an armful of paint from the 'keep' pile.

"You've been busy today," Xellos said, sweeping a gloved finger over the top of her mantle like everyone's least favorite mother-in-law.

Filia's reaction was less than composed. She dropped all the paints she was holding, sending them crashing to the floor where several broke and threatened to permanently stain her floor magenta. She slammed the drawer shut and blocked it bodily.

"Xellos!" she shouted, trying to bluster her way out of the impression she'd been caught doing something wrong. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping," he said simply.

"Helping?" she repeated. Even in her desperation to get him out of there, she had to question this completely blatant bullshit. Xellos was the opposite of helpful.

"Well, of course," Xellos said as though this were obvious. "You need help if your idea of cleaning is to throw paint on the floor."

Filia pointed angrily at him and clenched her other hand into a fist. "Excuse me, but I did not _throw_ this paint on the floor. I dropped it because you snuck up on me! If that's your idea of helping then _go help someone else!_"

Xellos leaned on his staff and endeavored to look persecuted. "I didn't _sneak up_ on you. I merely dropped in for a visit and made an innocent comment to announce my presence. _You_ on the other hand, completely overreacted and dropped everything to try to hide an entire chest of drawers with your body."

"I'm not hiding anything!" Filia declared, cape stretched across the furniture in question.

Xellos sat down in one of _her_ chairs. "Now this is interesting," he commented cheerfully. "What do you have in there that you don't want people to see?" he pondered. "Perhaps your diary? A secret alcohol stash? If this was your bureau then I could make some more colorful guesses."

"Absolutely not!" Filia screeched, incensed. Her diary was in a combination safe which was _itself_ in a locked chest in the darkest corner of the attic. Her bottle of gin, which she only kept around to put a drop or two in her tea when she'd had an especially hard day, was kept on the highest shelf in the kitchen where only she and Gravos (who wasn't inclined to judge) could reach. "This drawer is for art supplies and nothing else!"

"Really?" Xellos asked, sounding somewhat disappointed as he rose to his feet. "Then I suppose you won't mind me taking a look."

Filia braced herself against the chest of drawers. There was _no way_ she could let him find out that she'd kept those orbs. He'd get a bunch of crazy ideas in that nasty little head of his that she wouldn't be able to dissuade him of no matter how hard she tried. He was already insufferable, she couldn't stand the thought that it could get worse.

"Why would you want to see those?" she countered.

"Because you don't want me to," he said simply.

Filia made an exasperated sound. "That's just being difficult!"

Xellos nodded sagely. "I do have a rather high difficulty level."

"That's nothing to be proud of!" Filia snapped.

"That's a matter of perspective," Xellos said dismissively. "Now, will you let me see what's in there?"

"Not a chance!" Filia declared. "You have no right to go poking around through my things just because you're evil!"

Eyebrow twitch. "You're just making it more obvious that you're hiding something. Don't dragons ever learn subtlety?" He took a step forward.

She crossed her arms. Subtle or not she was short of viable excuses for why she didn't want Xellos looking at her art supplies. And he was just getting more and more suspicious…

"The last time you looked at my art supplies, I ended up with paint all over my floor!" Filia tried.

"Ah, but that was entirely your fault," Xellos responded, taking another step forward.

Filia panicked. Xellos was getting too close. "You'll have to walk through paint," she pointed out in a last ditch effort to hold him off.

"Why should you care if an 'evil' person gets paint on their shoes?" Xellos asked, advancing still forward. He stopped in the middle of the paint puddle, getting magenta paint on his evil shoes. He tapped her on the side with his staff. "Well?"

She glared at him as she felt the pressure of his staff prodding her out of the way. He seemed to have his mind set on rummaging through her drawers and there was nothing she could do to stop him. With belligerent slowness she moved away from the craft drawer.

She turned away from him in a manner that she hoped conveyed how utterly she disapproved of him. She heard the drawer roll back on its sliders as he opened it. She knew that her excuses for why she'd kept those gems weren't any better than her excuses for why he shouldn't see them.

He stared into the open drawer for a minute. "Filia you…" he began.

She winced. Here it comes…

"…thief."

Okay, that she hadn't expected. Her eyes shot open as she turned to him with her fists planted on her hips. "What do you mean 'thief'?" she demanded.

"Well," Xellos said, taking out one of the golden orbs, "one of these belongs to me, doesn't it? You stole it." He gave a sigh. "The dragon race has committed plenty of crimes in their history, but you'd think that their priestesses would at least be above petty thievery."

"Excuse me, I did _not_ steal anything!" Filia yelled back. "You threw it away!"

"You threw yours away too," Xellos pointed out.

"Yes," Filia said, momentarily caught off guard. "But I came back for it."

"What if I intended to come back for mine?" Xellos posited. "For all you know, I came back to the temple entrance later that day looking for what was mine only to find it missing. How could I have possibly guessed that a dragon priestess had stolen it?"

"Oh, _please!_" Filia said incredulously. "You were just as insulted as I was when Jillas paired us up. Why would you want a reminder of all that? That's just—" And then it hit her like a truck full of similes.

_That's just as crazy as me doing exactly the same thing…_

She gave him a horrified look. He couldn't have _actually_ gone and…

"Oh gods…" she murmured, leaning against the chest of drawers for support. "I think we've got the same kind of madness."

"What?" Xellos asked, brow furrowing.

"Nothing," Filia said, trying to hoist herself back up. She held a hand up to her head and took a few unsteady steps away. "I think… I need to lie down," she said deliberately. And because of the current state of her mind, she added: "You're not invited."

And with that she tottered out of the room. Xellos's gaze followed her until she was gone.

_Well, that was… peculiar._

He looked down at the golden gemstone in his hand. He held it up to the red one on his staff and shook his head. He didn't even know why he'd thought that would be a good idea in the first place.

He gave the gemstone a little toss in the air and caught it.

Oh well. No harm in keeping it.


	15. Childish

**Author's Note: **Theme #40.

* * *

**Childish.**

Filia stirred her lemonade contentedly with her straw. It was a perfect day, the kind that even Xellos couldn't ruin. She sat on her back porch and looked out into the dew-glistened morning.

"I think spring is my favorite time of year," she said as a yellow finch let out a burst of birdsong.

"Oh really?" Xellos said, with a willingness to test her previous assumption about him. "Which part do you like best: the constant rain or the smell of worms the rain leaves behind?"

Filia breathed in the moist air that only had the slightest aroma of worms. "You're wrong," she insisted. "It's the most beautiful season there is."

Xellos cocked his head to one side to look at her. "Autumn has its changing colors, winter its frosted vistas, and in summer everything is at its height of liveliness. What makes spring superior among the four?"

Filia shook her head. "Someone like you could never understand. It's just… the feeling in the air. It's like everything is being renewed. It's full of new life: carefree and… innocent."

At this exact moment, a squirrel ran across Filia's yard, hotly pursued by a second squirrel.

"Though not for very long," Xellos commented, following the two animals with his eye.

Filia managed to avert her eyes before the second squirrel pounced upon the first squirrel, but she was just in time to see a female duck being chased around the shrub at the edge of her property by, not one, but _two_ male ducks.

Quacks filled the air.

Filia slammed her lemonade down on the porch, got up and stomped back into the house without looking back. Xellos raised his eyebrows and followed her.

"Filia?" he tried when he followed her through the screen door.

"I've changed my mind," she said shortly, not turning around from the dirty dishes she'd chosen to occupy herself with. "Autumn is much better."

Xellos leaned against the wall. "What, just because of that?" he asked, gesturing to beyond the door.

There was another loud quack from outside.

Filia dropped her scrubbing brush angrily into the sink. It plopped under water and then surfaced. "Just shut up," she said, retrieving it.

"Don't you think you're being a little… childish?" Xellos asked, not shutting up at all.

"I _said_ shut up!"

"I mean," Xellos said, scratching his cheek speculatively, "what did you _think_ the birds were singing about?"

Filia whipped around, waving a ladle at him in a threatening manner. "I thought even you couldn't ruin a day like this! I guess I was wrong!"

Xellos surveyed her in an extremely unimpressed way. "It's not as though it's _my_ fault the mortal races reproduce sexually."

Filia collapsed slightly, her outstretch ladle now looking more like an ordinary spoon than a demon vanquishing sword. Technically he had a point there, but nevertheless.

"I mean, you like ducklings, don't you?" Xellos asked. "It's very juvenile to like ducklings but blanch at the steps necessary to _get_ ducklings. But I suppose it doesn't surprise me. The Dragon race has always had a high and mighty attitude about these kinds of things."

_Knocking his brains out with a ladle won't solve anything_, Filia warned herself as she felt her grip tightening around the spoon. She forced herself to turn around and dry dishes.

"I suppose part of it is a survival thing," Xellos commented from behind her. "Adult dragons don't need to eat that much, but hatchlings require a lot of feeding and are a very large strain on resources. Then there's the fact that dragons are very long lived. If you _weren't_ a backwards and sexually repressed bunch, then the dragon population would have expanded beyond its means."

A crack appeared in the center of the plate that Filia was cleaning.

"Not only that," Xellos went on, determined to explore this topic to its full extent, "but if the dragon population got too large then the monster race might get concerned about their growing ranks and choose to rectify the situation."

That did it. The plate broke.

Filia swung around. "How _dare_ you threaten genocide in my house?"

"I wasn't _threatening_ anything," Xellos said in a slightly annoyed voice. "I was just stating a fact."

"Well, state your facts elsewhere because I'm not interested in listening!" Filia declared, her voice getting high pitched. She turned back to the sink yet again, hoping that he'd finally take a hint.

The kitchen was filled only with the squeak of Filia rubbing a washcloth over her wet dishes for a few minutes. Then Xellos said, as thought there'd been no interruption in his previous line of thought, "Then there's the matter of control, which I'm sure your dragon elders have thought up. Dragons have a lot of rules, you know. Well," he laughed, "it's obvious that a population beset with guilt and shame is easier to manipulate."

"That's not how it is and you know it," Filia countered fiercely. "Stop trying to turn having scruples into something wicked."

Xellos raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me that you're _not_ controlled by guilt and shame?"

"Of course not," Filia said, hands on her hips as she turned around to glare at him. "_I_ have nothing to feel guilty about."

"Is that a fact?" Xellos asked insincerely, pulling out a chair from her kitchen table and sitting down. "Tell me then, how do the Golden Dragons incite these marvelous virtues without blame or fear-mongering?"

Filia hesitated. Thinking back to her youth, well… it wasn't a subject that dragons talked about that much… or at all, really. She could still remember a time when she'd been quite young and her friend Mintha had made an innocent inquiry to their teacher wondering where eggs came from. She'd been told to stand in the corner until she was willing to behave like a proper dragon and to not ask again unless she wanted worse punishment. That probably classified as blame and fear-mongering.

When they'd gotten older…

"There was this… book," Filia recalled out loud, "of all the things that unmarried dragons are not allowed to do."

Xellos considered the Dragon race's attitude toward impropriety and their general fondness for rule collecting. "I imagine it was quite a large book."

Filia couldn't help nodding. It _had_ been huge. And it got bigger every year. A classmate had commented in a whispered voice that it must have binder rings in it to make it easier to add new debaucheries.

"So… what was in it?" Xellos asked in a curious voice.

Filia bit her lip and shook her head. "We weren't allowed to read it," she said.

Xellos raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"They said it would give us ideas," Filia explained.

Xellos pondered this. Dragons possibly had a better understanding of psychology than he'd assumed. "Then what about married dragons?" he asked.

"From what I always understood," Filia said, rooting through memories, "whenever two dragons get married they are given a pamphlet."

"Of things they aren't allowed to do?" Xellos asked.

"No," Filia said. "Of things they _are_ allowed to do."

Xellos stared at her in silence.

"And a list of instructions," Filia went on.

Xellos's silence got, if at all possible, _more_ silent.

"And a diagram with numbered parts," Filia finished.

Xellos opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then opened it to say: "Filia?"

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"_Backwards and sexually repressed,_" he said firmly.

"Oh, don't give me that!" Filia snapped. "There's nothing wrong with having wholesome virtues. And if you have to write five hundred strictly enforced rules and regulations to get them then… well, what's the alternative? Just a downward spiral into decadent immorality and detestable sin!"

Xellos had to figure that she'd lifted 'decadent immorality and detestable sin' straight from one of the Dragon race's sermons. It had that familiar cadence and hammered home repetition that they were so fond of. "Come to think of it," he said quietly, "you're not really sure _what_ that detestable sin is, are you?"

Filia was taken aback. She was sure she wouldn't like where this line of thought was heading.

"Oh, I'm sure you've managed to collect _some_ idea over the years," Xellos said thoughtfully, "from the vague forbiddances of your elders, overheard conversations and half-understood jokes. But I'd guess that there's a pretty good chance that you're not at all familiar with, shall we say, _the particulars_." He looked up at her.

Filia wished that she hadn't put her ladle away. Whether or not it would solve anything, Xellos _deserved_ to have his brains knocked out with a serving utensil.

"Do I need to give you 'The Talk', Filia?" Xellos inquired.

"What? No!" Filia yelled, her horror knowing no bounds. "Absolutely not!"

"When a man and woman love—or sometimes hate—each other very much—"

"GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN THIS INSTANT!" Filia screeched.


	16. You Are Answerable For Your Fantasies

**Author's Note: **Theme #89.

* * *

**You Are Answerable For Your Fantasies.**

It was a roundabout way, Xellos had to admit, of getting a cup of tea. Going to a café might have afforded him better service and less generalized insolence than stopping by Filia's and waiting for her to snap enough to need to sooth her nerves with tea, but… then again, that wouldn't be as much _fun._

It had only taken a backhanded compliment about her weight, a knock on her child-rearing abilities, and a steadfast refusal to give her any clue as to just what exactly he was 'up to' with these little visits to make Filia decide to reschedule teatime. The look on her face when she disappeared to the kitchen said: teatime is whenever the hell I need tea, and I need tea _now._

She returned from the kitchen, easily carting a teapot big enough and solid enough to have bent most women her size double. She gave him a nasty look as though questioning where he got off sitting so expectantly at her table like he had a right to the share of the stress-reducing tea that she'd had to brew because of _his_ shenanigans. Nevertheless she coldly set a crinkle-edged tea cup in front of him, lest he make a swipe at her less-than shining hostess skills.

She poured his tea slowly, as though determined to give herself reaction time in case he decided to pull his cup and saucer away suddenly so she'd stain her tabletop. But he let her finish.

When she had sat down across from him with her own steaming cup, he picked up the delicate beverageware and took a long drink. He took the cup away from his mouth and let out a satisfied post-drink noise. He looked up curiously at Filia's seething form from across the table.

"What's the matter, Filia? You're not drinking," he said, faux-concern latched firmly into place.

Filia wanted to drink. In fact, she'd go so far as to say that she desperately needed to drink. The smell of it was driving her crazy. She knew that once she had a sip of the warm, consoling liquid that inner peace would wrap its arms around her and her troubles would be forgotten, if only for a moment. But even to Filia's frequently burnt tongue, the freshly brewed tea was far too hot to drink. Not that that would matter to a _monster_. And Xellos knew that. He was just lording it over her.

"I am waiting," she said evenly, "for it to cool."

"Ah, what a shame," Xellos said, with a tone and expression that indicated in no uncertain terms that this was not a shame. "It might help pass the time if you had a cookie or two to nibble on," he suggested, looking around his saucer as though a circle of sweetened dough might be hiding under it, "but I see there aren't any." He cocked his head at her. "How strange. You'd just opened up a new tin when I was here yesterday—you remember, when you threw an oatmeal raisin one at me with such force that it smashed against the wall behind me into nothing but a cloud of crumbs?" He looked at her critically. "Don't tell me you ate _all_ of them by yourself between then and now."

Her hands encircled her tea cup with more vigor than you'd expect for simple hand warming. In fact, it was hard to tell which would shatter first: the tea cup full of boiling liquid or her gritted teeth. Just when Xellos was making ready to duck away from another flying projectile, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she had an expression of such peace and contentment that you'd think that she'd already taken a swig of her favorite beverage (perhaps with a shot of something stronger too). She smiled.

Xellos eyed her suspiciously. "What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?" she asked, feeling the heat radiating from her cup. It would be just cool enough to drink soon.

"Whatever you were just thinking," Xellos said, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, that. I was thinking about bashing that teapot over your head. Repeatedly," Filia answered sweetly.

Xellos raised an eyebrow. He'd gotten his tea, now he was getting his serving of insolence.

"I see," he said curtly. "And do fantasies of inflicting violence upon me always fill you with such glee?"

"Of course," she said, raising the previously boiling, but now merely scalding beverage to her lips to take a drink.

"Doesn't the Dragon race have rules against sinful fantasies?" Xellos asked.

Filia spat out her long awaited gulp of tea in a spray of indignation. She gave him a hard look. "You're thinking of an _entirely different_ kind of fantasy."

"What kind of fantasy?" he asked in an innocent tone that she did not buy.

"That kind I'd never have about _you!_" she shouted.

"Ah," Xellos said, sitting back. "So you don't participate in the panting, caressing, _fleshy_ kind of fantasies?"

"Of course not!" Filia screeched.

"You're talking about the wrathful, pummeling, violent kind of fantasy?"

Filia nodded fiercely.

"Well how is that any less sinful?" Xellos asked. "It's not as though sex is more wicked than violence. In fact, it's less aberrant. At least sex has its place, whereas destruction is always seen as evil."

"You're missing the part where you're a _monster_," Filia said acidly. "Hitting you is practically a public service, whereas"—she choked on her words for a minute—"whereas doing that _other thing_ with you would be an abomination."

Xellos clucked his tongue at her. "I don't see how the victim of your action matters. The act of violence _itself_ is sinful. I can't say it's what you practice, but it _is_ what you dragons preach. In that sense, it doesn't matter what I am."

Filia wanted to know just where Xellos got off labeling himself 'the victim'. But he had an annoyingly accurate theological point.

"Well that doesn't even matter," Filia shot back, "because I didn't _actually_ hit you, I only thought about it."

Xellos wagged a finger at her. "Ah-ah-ah," he chided. "Haven't we already established that 'just thinking' isn't an excuse? Lustful thoughts are a sin and so is lust. Therefore if violence is a sin, then so are violent thoughts."

Filia was not only running out of counterarguments, but she was running into more violent fantasies. "Who are you to criticize _my_ moral compass anyway?" she demanded in a last-ditch effort.

Xellos shook his head. "Criticism isn't the point," he said. "Clearly you're being held hostage by these depraved desires you have concerning me." He looked at her seriously. "You need help."

Filia was exasperated. The help she needed was for Xellos to get as far away from her as possible. Also, she wasn't too fond of the way he wielded the phrase 'depraved desires'.

"I think confession is the solution," Xellos concluded thoughtfully. "Yes. You must got to one of your temples and tell a dragon priest that you've been having immoral fantasies about me. I'm confident he'll get you the help you need."

Filia ran that suggested sentence through her mind. _'So, I've been having these immoral fantasies about Xellos…' _"They'd execute me!" she yelled.

"Yes," Xellos said with an enthusiastic nod, "but you wouldn't have any more fantasies."

Filia stared at him opened mouthed. Then she shut her mouth, glared at him, and appeared to reach a decision. She pushed her chair out, got up, and gripped the teapot with deadly intent.

"Oh good," Xellos said, cheerfully dodging as the hefty weight swung straight through the area his head had been seconds ago. "I'd prefer to see you actualizing."


	17. Clipped Wings

Theme #24.

* * *

**Clipped Wings.**

It always started out sharp and peppery. That was when surprise overtook her. He'd say a word or two to her, probably something fairly harmless or a reply to something she thought she'd been saying just to herself, and then she'd jump and look wildly around the room for the source of the comment.

"Xellos!" Filia cried out, that surprise even now beginning to shake away into anger. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Once the surprise was shed, her teeth would grind together and her eyes would narrow. That would generally signal her move from shock into the deep canyon of annoyance and suspicion where she would stay for most of the remainder of their conversation. Annoyance was sugary, diverging into syrupy when her rage deepened. It wasn't filling like fear or pain, or savory like sadness, but it was almost addictively sweet.

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't you ever have anything new to say? I'm sorry to point out that while _dragons_ might consider that a proper greeting, I doubt anyone _else_ would think it's very polite."

"I don't have to be polite to you," she declared, stepping away from her chore of lining shelves to glare at him properly. "Would you prefer I greeted you with what monsters consider polite? Doesn't that generally involve collapsing someone's skull?"

"Hardly," Xellos said with a scoff and a frown. It wasn't all saccharinity. Things could get downright _sour_ when Filia started jabbing back. But it gave the experience variety. "And the Golden Dragons? Aside from rude demands of intent, how does your race greet people? Maybe a little species cleansing? Or is that just for other dragon races?"

That one hurt and perhaps even a little too much. He could feel it radiating off of her. Things tended to escalate in arguments with Filia, so he thought he might have to recalibrate. Before he had a chance, though, she was pointing at him, with that look in her eyes that said she might either cry or slap him upside the head next.

"You of all people have no right to throw stones on _that_ issue!"

"Ah, perhaps, Filia," he said, trying to calm the waters back to a more reasonable level of churning agitation. "It seems that both our races have been involved in mass… impoliteness."

"I'd use a stronger word than that!" Filia shot back, understandably irked by his reference to genocide in the same terms as one might refer to not taking your shoes off inside someone else's house.

"Would you?" Xellos asked, taking a seat on the step stool Filia used to reach the highest shelves in her shop. "But it's on both sides, wouldn't you agree?"

"That's not even—" Filia began. Then she stopped and you could practically see steam spurting out of her nostrils. "Look, Golden Dragons have done horrible things. I know that. You _know_ I know that. But even in the midst of those terrible things they were _trying_ to do good. They were terrible wrong, but at least their intentions were good. You _monsters_ actually go out and attempt to be awful!"

Xellos waved a finger at her. "Ah, so are you saying that a well-intentioned massacre is less vile than a poorly-intentioned massacre? Do the brutally murdered appreciate that good intent?"

Filia often thought that Xellos derived some sick pleasure from confusing her. This was absolutely true. Filia was trying to build up a counter-argument, because she knew that Xellos's thesis was full of holes. She just wasn't entirely sure how to express that at the moment. But he was already moving on and didn't give her a chance to respond.

"And in any case, if intent is considered then the matter becomes all the more murky when you realize that these acts are carried out by servants under the orders of their superiors. This is true on both sides. Now… correct me if I'm wrong, Filia, but isn't obedience one of the Dragon race's favorite virtues?" Though certainly not one of Filia's, Xellos had to admit. Unless it involved being obedient to _her_. "If that's the case and following orders is a laudable act, then _by your own argument_ you have absolutely no reason to hold a grudge against me for such acts."

Filia nearly exploded. "Are you _serious?_" she demanded. "You're actually going to try to play the 'I was just following orders' card and think everything will be forgiven?"

"I was not apologizing," Xellos said coldly. "I was simply following through with _your_ logic."

"That wasn't _my_ logic," Filia countered fiercely. "That's some twisted version of my logic that you've concocted by missing the point of everything I was saying to excuse your dastardly behavior!"

"Pardon me for listening to your words, I'm sure," he answered icily, though he was glad at least for the 'd'. "I just consider it rather hypocritical for you to judge me for carrying out orders, when you served your own race in a similar—though infinitely less important—way."

"Not even _remotely_ similar!" Filia shrieked. "And anyway, you hit on the actually point there, _served,_" she said forcefully. "I didn't like the things that the Dragon race was doing or the things I was being asked to do so _I quit!_ I could do that too. Nobody clipped my wings."

"And if you're going to claim to be just 'an obedient servant' then I've got news for you," Filia snapped, really getting in his face. "If you get pay and the occasional day off then you're a servant; if you get to go home at the end of the day and belong to yourself then you're a servant; if your choices belong to you then you're a servant; if you can quit when you don't like what you're being asked to do and not face _death_ then you're a servant. If not, then that's just,"—she struggled with herself for a moment—"that's just _slavery._"

Xellos gaped at her. How could she have the audacity to suggest that— If she honestly believed something so stupid then there was no way he could set the deluded creature straight. When, by all accounts, if she had even the slightest bit of sense she should _envy_ him his position. How _dare_ she! Did she really think that just because those more powerful than her deigned to let have her way _for the moment_ that she was freer than him? Did she have any concept of how fragile that illusion of freedom was? That at any moment it could be taken away? And yet she had the nerve to imply something so… so _low_ and untrue about him?

He was about tell her that. _All_ that. To take the blindfold off her and let her see what chains she really lived with. He was about to tell her, when he picked up a new sensation.

It was small, just a tendril of feeling flowing off of Filia as she stared back at him with a difficult to decipher expression. It had a coarse, sickening taste, as bitter in his mouth as ash.

It was _pity._


	18. Totally Smashed

**Author's Note: **Theme #75. Continued from Clipped Wings.

* * *

**Totally Smashed.**

Xellos was still stewing from his last encounter with Filia. Being called a slave by a lizard who did not even possess a hundredth of his power was not sitting at all well with him. She was just spewing nonsense and didn't even understand half of what she was saying. Yes, that was right. Unfortunately this was probably the eighth time he'd told himself that and the matter didn't seem any more likely to leave his head.

He had to suppose that from a certain perspective, namely Filia's, she was actually correct. But that was only in the way that all creatures were subject to the whims of those more powerful than them. She wasn't any freer than he was, she just wasn't aware of it. We're all under someone's heel; that's just a fact.

It wasn't, to be perfectly honest, a fact that was making him feel any better.

It was the pity that had really gotten to him. The idea of someone like her pitying him was almost too much to bear. He'd witnessed pity before, but it being directed at him was a galling and utterly foreign experience. Being pitied was not a pleasant experience. After all, pity was just a disgusted kind of love.

This… wasn't a productive line of thought. But he kept running through the same old tracks and was unable to put it out of his mind or move on to anything new. At this point, he just wished he could stop thinking, if only for a little while.

_It is in this mindset_, Xellos observed grimly, but with irony, _that mortals drink._

Of course, Xellos himself occasionally partook in alcohol. It was a… social thing. Humans are much more inclined to make deals over drinks. _Not_ drinking would've made them uncomfortable and, in any case, the more he'd drink the more they'd drink and the more they drank the easier it was to strike a deal.

But it wasn't the same thing for him. Not having a blood stream to build up alcohol in, he was simply left to enjoy the fine flavor of the beverage while anyone who drank with him enjoyed the effects of inebriation.

Then again… it was all just a matter of processing chemicals, wasn't it? He could do that. When the mood struck her, Lord Beastmaster certainly seemed to manage it. With flourish.

He should… probably check this out. If only to develop a better frame of reference for the experience. Xellos was all about developing better frames of reference.

He phased out.

* * *

Some time later Xellos found what he was looking for. He walked into a bar which wasn't _quite_ seedy, but definitely on the seedy side. It was seedy-esque; certainly not a place that would make it into a tourist pamphlet top ten list, but on the other hand, they probably actually washed their glasses. The lighting was low and depressed inside; a sharp contrast from the bright, snowy day outside where couples were walking arm in arm, carrying heart-shaped objects. Apparently some sort of late winter festival devoted to love was going on. Perhaps the rejects of that ceremony turned to look at him in a glassy-eyed way as he entered and then turned their attention back to their drinks.

He walked up to the bar, rapped on the counter and asked the bartender to fetch him a bottle of whatever the locals used as paint thinner. Normally this kind of behavior would at least have earned him the cold shoulder in such establishments and at most sent a chair flying at his face, but this bartender hadn't lasted as long as he had without learning how to feel people out. Priests could always be trouble when they drank and this one looked like trouble already—not in the usual scarred, tattooed, grimacing way—but a kind of trouble nonetheless. He passed the newcomer a bottle and a very small glass without a word.

Xellos poured a generous dose into the glass with a steady hand and downed it in a way that got the attention of the more competitive clientele of the bar. It tasted awful, but he knew it would start tasting better when the caustic substance starting burning away taste buds. He took another drink and the quality seemed to be marginally improved. It was even better on the third go.

He was starting to worry that he'd gone to all this trouble for nothing. He wasn't feeling any different and the stinging encounter with Filia weighed upon his mind just as much. He reached for the glass again and missed, but chalked this up to being lost in thought. He managed to grasp it on the second try.

The morose silence of the room was broken for a moment as a sigh that was more of a groan from some rose up. Xellos followed the gaze of every man in the room toward the window. The windows must have been dirty, since his view through them was rather blurry, but he could make out a young woman holding a box given to her by a young man. She moved quite animatedly, putting something from the box onto her finger and throwing herself into his arms.

Xellos turned back to his drink. He didn't know for sure what number drink this was at the moment, but that hardly mattered. What he _did_ know for sure was that watching the courtship rituals of humans wasn't doing anything to improve his mood.

Filia probably would've thought it was sweet. If she'd been there she would've sighed and clasped a hand to her heart. Maybe if she was really drawn into a fit of emotion she'd take out a handkerchief and cry into it over the romance of the situation. But no… if she'd been there with him she would've been too absorbed being disgusted by the bar and its customers. Yes… she'd feel disgust, but not love as well… not _pity._ No pity for them, but…

He looked up in time to see one of the bar's patrons giving him a half smile. It wasn't a nice smile, and not only because it was on a grizzled prospector's face and therefore missing a few important teeth. It was an unhappy sort of smile, but one that bespoke a fellow feeling. The man lifted his glass, said: "_Wimmin'_," vehemently and took a drink.

Xellos looked at his own glass. "Wimmin'," he was forced to agree, and drank it down.

* * *

A few hours later and even Xellos's new friends from the bar (to whom he owed a great debt of thanks for teaching him a series of amusing songs) thought that he'd had enough. Now he was roaming around at the stage of drunkenness where calling on an ex to give her a piece of your mind and/or beg her to come back to you seems like an _excellent_ idea. After a few misses he managed to teleport to Filia's door.

Before Filia had even managed to get out her quintessential 'what are _you_ doing here?' (with perhaps a confused addition of '…and why are you using the door?') Xellos had declared in what, in his mind, was a clear, reasonable voice: "I don' need yer _pity!_"

For a moment Filia was taken aback, then she sniffed the air and was _really_ taken aback. "Are you drunk?" she asked disbelievingly as he lurched past her and into the house.

"_No_," he answered belligerently. He walked into nothing and fell down. "…Maybe a li'l," he admitted from the floor.

"You can't be drunk," Filia said, as if she could order the facts away. She clomped over and tried to pull him up. "That shouldn't even be _possible!_"

"Well if I am itsyer fault," he said reproachfully, immobile despite her efforts to get him on two feet again.

She grunted and pulled but he wasn't moving, instead she ended up falling to the floor next to him where she shrieked at him in utter aggravation and demanded: "How is it _my_ fault?"

He extended his index finger and narrowly avoided poking his own eye out. " 's _secret_," he said.

She slammed her hands against the wooden floor in frustration. "I demand that you sober up immediately!" she ordered.

Xellos actually might've been able to follow this somewhat ridiculous command if he'd been in any state to see that it was a good suggestion. As it was, he reached out and touched the clenched and angry face in front of him. "S'okay though," he said in drunken rumination. "S'okay 'cause… we're the same."

After a brief moment of uncertain she slapped his hand away. "What are you talking about?" she shot back in utter bewilderment.

He hoisted himself up unsteadily on his own steam and walked on, using his staff like a cane as Filia scrambled to follow him. " 'Salright, 'salright," he kept muttering to himself. "Yer the same 's me."

"I am _not_ the same as you," Filia said forcefully. "What do you mean by that?" He stumbled again and caught himself on her sofa. "Xellos!"

"Filia," he said, at first it was an answer, but then he seemed to get stuck on it. "Filia, Filia, Filia. For some reason 's nice to say." He climbed onto her couch and quieted.

Filia watched him with growing horror for a moment. "No," she said, crossing her arms. "You are _not_ sleeping it off here. Absolutely no way!"

There was silence from the form on her couch. She stepped back. "Absolutely no way," she repeated, but to herself. She couldn't just let someone that evil spend the night on her couch, could she?

She drew closer once again and reached out a tentative hand, as if ready to recoil in case he awoke and made more bizarre proclamations. She touched his forehead gently and swept his bangs out of his face. His eyes were closed, not in his usual insincere squint but in the slumber of the seriously drunk.

"What could've possibly gotten into you?" she asked softly.

She hesitated for a moment, then reached up for the quilt that was draped over the top of the couch, pulled it over him, and stood up. She dimmed the lights and went up to her room.

He was going to have a lot of explaining to do when morning came.

…And a monster of a headache.


	19. Just Because You Can Do It, Doesn't Mean

**Author's Note: **Theme #42. Continued once again from the last theme :)

* * *

**Just Because You Can Do It, Doesn't Mean You Should.**

Xellos's eyes blinked open slowly, as though the body he used to get things done in the physical realm wasn't quite as responsive as it usually was. Waking up and not knowing where he was was an unusual experience for him… so was waking up.

He concentrated on his surroundings. He was on a light-brown sofa in well-decorated (if a little froufrou) living room. It was an extremely clean space. In fact, the contrast between the unnecessarily clean living room and the somewhat messy kitchen with dirty dishes piled on the counter was very odd. He tilted his head to see that he'd been covered with a quilt. Several patches of the quilt featured kittens.

_Oh dear…_ he thought as recollections began to emerge.

"It's about time you woke up," a voice complained.

Xellos turned his head to see Filia glowering at him from over by the mantle. She was holding a feather duster and ostensibly dusting the dust-free trinkets over the fireplace. Her body was tense, like she'd been waiting for something for a long time and now worried that it might have been better to go on waiting.

He sat up on the couch and touched his forehead gingerly. The fine chemical processing structures that he'd created the day before to _properly_ enjoy alcohol seemed to be sloshing around as though preserved in death throes. It was a good thing that he didn't really need those structures, because he knew that they'd been severely damaged by last night's little… indiscretions. In short, alcohol was no longer fun.

"Well," he said with some effort as he fingered the quilt over him with his other hand, "this is extremely unpleasant."

Filia held her hands to her hips, one hand still clasping the feather duster. "A hangover is fate punishing you for drinking," she told him self-righteously.

"I was talking about your quilting skills," Xellos answered calmly.

She threw the feather duster at his head, which is, for the record, not a nice thing to do to someone who is hung-over. It was a mark of how bad Xellos was feeling that he didn't dodge.

"I think," Xellos said slowly, almost laboriously, as the feather duster fell on the floor in front of him, "that I've had enough of this." He made adjustments. The air shimmered oddly around him for a moment, like super-heated air on a desert horizon. He straightened up and looked more alert.

"What did you just do?" Filia asked suspiciously.

"Got rid of the alcohol," Xellos said simply.

Filia growled. "You can't just opt out of the consequences of your vile actions!"

"Yes," Xellos said, "I can. I just did."

That much was evident. "Well, it's not _right," _Filia insisted. "You think you can just get drunk and then waltz in here and mess everything up without so much as paying the penalty of a headache in the morning? There is a _child_ in this house for your information. You should be _ashamed_ of yourself!"

Xellos made a determined study of his fingernails, which was difficult because he was wearing gloves. "I don't think I should have to change my behavior just because _you_ can't grow up."

Filia took a minute on that one, then set her teeth into a grimace. Too bad she didn't have anything else to throw at him. "I was _talking_ about Val."

"He at least has more of an excuse then you," Xellos said, visiting a smile on her.

Filia gave him a disapproving look. No one had the right to be that chipper the morning after bursting into their enemy's house in a drunken stupor and then collapsing. She approached him, and he watched her as though wondering what she'd do next. Then she reached down and pointedly snatched up her feather duster. She sat down on the recliner perpendicular to the couch.

She sat there for a moment, plucking idly at the duster, before finally saying: "I didn't think that you monsters could even get drunk."

"We can," Xellos said, swinging around his legs so he was facing her. He still had the quilt over him, which made him look very out of place. "We just don't have to."

Filia's brow creased. "Why would you want to get drunk if you don't have to?"

Xellos shrugged, not looking at her as he shook out the quilt and began folding it on his lap. "I suppose because I can."

That explanation cut absolutely no ice with Filia. She gripped the feather duster in her hand, but held on in case he did something else to make her want to hurl it at him that was worse. "That's no reason to do something!"

"Isn't it?" Xellos said, using patented deflection technique number one (respond to questions with questions); "Then why do you get drunk?"he asked, pressing on to patented deflection technique number two (pretend the other person is the one with the problem).

Filia scowled. His patented deflection techniques weren't anything new to her. "_I_ don't get drunk."

"Oh really?" Xellos asked disbelievingly. "I've seen a few tell-tale bottles on high shelves where children's hands can't find them."

Filia made an indignant squawking sound. Xellos had no right to go through her pantry and pass judgment on her. "Those are just for cooking!" she explained.

Xellos gave her a sly look.

"Alright," she said harshly, "maybe _occasionally_ when I've had a very bad day I'll… put it to non-culinary use. But it's not like I get wasted and come to _your_ door lurching around and slurring nonsense!"

"That would be funny," Xellos commented, giving the drunken-Filia scenario an almost criminal amount of thought.

"_You_ didn't seem like you were having fun," Filia pointed out. "You sounded upset."

One of those quick twitches crossed Xellos's face. It was the kind that always left Filia unsure as to whether she imagined it or not. "By you?" He let out a little 'as if!' snort.

Filia narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. "I never said by me." She gave him a puzzled look. "What could I possibly have done to upset you so much?"

"I suppose you just do it naturally," he said sourly.

"I was being serious," Filia said severely. "What did I say that hurt so much that you needed to get smashed to forget it?"

"You can't hurt me, Filia," he said, falsely as it happened.

"My 'pitying' you seems to hurt you," Filia struck back. She'd had all evening lying awake in bed and all morning waiting for him to wake up to mull over his strange performance. "But apparently that's okay because 'we're the same'."

"We're not the same," Xellos almost whispered.

"That's what _I_ said; _you_ seemed to have other ideas."

Xellos was quiet for a moment. It had all made more sense when he was slightly-or-more-than-slightly-as-the-case-may-be unhinged from reality. This idea that no matter how different they seemed that there was something about her that called out a fellow feeling… that they could understand each other in ways that no one else could.

"I was a little out of sorts as you might have noticed," he answered.

"Maybe," Filia said, "but that doesn't mean it came out of nowhere." She gave him a searching look. "What were you thinking?"

He got up abruptly, picking up his staff from where Filia had leaned it against the couch. "Clearly I wasn't," his back said.

"You were!" Filia shot back indignantly, standing and moving toward him. "Maybe you didn't like what you were thinking but that doesn't mean it didn't happen!" She reached out and touched his shoulder. "Xellos?"

He turned around snatched her hand, but when he spoke next he sounded more tired than angry. "You're doing it again, Filia."

"What?" Filia asked, unsure as to whether she should take back her hand or let things lie. It felt very much like that brief moment when he'd touched her face the night before.

"Pitying me," he said, definitely sounding resigned.

"I'm _not_," Filia said, caught off-guard by this accusation.

"You are," he said heavily, "and you were. I can feel it."

"Well, maybe I am," she shouted, "but if I am it's just because you can't even manage to tell me what's going on without resorting to changing the subject or your _stupid _catchphrase or pretending this is all about me!"

"It _is_ all about you," he said gravely, though he understood Filia's meaning.

"_I'm_ not the one that's upset about something!" she yelled back. He raised an eyebrow and she added: "Fine. I _am_ upset. But only because you started it."

"We are rather in tune to each other, aren't we?" Xellos observed with a small smile.

She very nearly stamped her foot. "You're changing the subject _again._"

"I'm not," he said. "Not really." He looked into her had-it-up-to-here-with-this-bullshit expression and sighed. He sank back onto the couch, still holding her hand so that she was obliged to sit next to him.

"Could you say that _you'd_ be happy about being called a slave?" he asked her.

"That?" she asked incredulously. "Come on, you've said way worse things about me!" That was what her words said, but there was a prickle of guilt just beyond them. Xellos could taste it. It tasted better than the pity, but he still didn't like being on the receiving end of it.

He scratched his cheek in thought. "I suppose I have," he said.

"Don't just admit it so calmly like that!" Filia exploded.

"I thought you'd appreciate my honesty," he answered smoothly.

She scowled. "You're not _honest._ You tell the truth—most of the time—but that's not the same thing."

Xellos couldn't help but smile. Filia was more perceptive than most people would give her credit. That's why exchanges with her, while often leading to triumph for him, could easily end in such scenarios as him getting the bright idea to marinade his troubles in whiskey. What a troublesome girl she was…

She was looking down now, at his hand still holding hers—lightly, almost inviting her to let go. "And that's what was bothering you?" she asked quietly, as she let his words sink in.

"Don't feel too sorry for me," he warned: "it's not species-appropriate. Anyway," he added, with a shrug of his shoulders, "we're all governed by limitations… you as much as I, perhaps even more so. And don't fool yourself. There are very few things that I would change even if I had the power to."

She leaned toward him, eyes wide, surprised and watching. "…But there are things you would change?"

He increased the pressure on her hand for just a moment, perhaps more as a reminder that he was holding it than anything. "I suppose there's always a line," he said speculatively, "but it's rather sketchy as to where exactly it is. So I'm afraid I won't know until I've crossed it."

"And you're worried that you're going to cross it?" she asked. It must be true, she thought, or the idea of his freedom being restricted wouldn't have driven him to… to _try out_ drunk.

He looked at her very seriously. "I'm _going_ to cross it," he said. "That's the problem."

"But what will happen to you if you do that?" she asked. Surely Xellos's creator and master would do more than give him a time-out if he stepped out of line.

He rolled his shoulders back. "Hope that the line gets redrawn," he said simply.

She gripped the feather duster with the hand not being cradled in Xellos's gloved one, sliding the feathers idly against the base of the couch as she thought. That hardly seemed like a satisfying or secure way of looking at things. But maybe Xellos was valuable enough that he could get away with whatever small indiscretion was so important to him.

He let go of her hand and tapped the side of her nose playfully with his index finger. "But look at it this way," he said brightly, "for someone in my station to be able to hang around in some dragon hovel after a night's hard drinking without stirring up trouble seems to imply a more than comfortable amount of liberty."

She scowled at his finger, still in the air in one of Xellos's stock gestures. His serious to silly attitude was starting to annoy her. Not only that—her house was _not_ a hovel!

"You don't know that," she shot back. "You haven't even reported in—after spending the night at the _very nice house_ of a golden dragon no less!"

He withdrew his hand and looked thoughtful. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. He leaned against his staff and propelled himself off the couch. "I suppose I'd better go face the music then," he said in a voice that had a bit of a sigh in it.

He looked at her, looking at him, and perhaps her pity wasn't as terrible an experience as the first time.

"Oh, might as well," he said, "I'm in trouble anyway," and kissed her briefly on the lips before disappearing from the physical plane.

She brought the feather duster around in a heavy, inevitable arc, slicing the air where he'd been just a second ago with a more terrible force than a mere feather duster ought to carry.

"JUST WHAT KIND OF 'LINE' WERE YOU THINKING ABOUT CROSSING?" she demanded of the still shimmering space where he'd disappeared.


	20. If Looks Could Kill

**Author's Note: **For theme #18.

* * *

**If Looks Could Kill…**

"I'll kill him," Filia vowed in high, scandalized voice. She stared across the dining hall at the purple-haired _fiend_ sitting just two tables away and cheerily giving his order to the waitress.

"I don't really think that's going to work, Miss Filia," Amelia said nervously, with a discouraging wave of her hand.

Filia, with a great deal of effort, managed to shift her gaze from her least favorite traveling companion over to Amelia, her seat-mate. Even though they all traveled in one party, they often took up several tables at restaurants. This was because Lina and Gourry required so much… space when they ate. First off, they tended to order more food than could possibly fit on the table at one time, so there wasn't room for anyone else's meal. That wasn't such a big deal because _any_ meal at the same table as Lina and Gourry became _their_ meal. What really worried anyone forced to sit next to them was the flying arms that flapped in unpredictable and sometimes impossible directions as the two of them shoveled food in their mouths as quickly as they could. A bruised jaw had taught Filia early on that sitting next to Lina when there's anything deep-fried on the table was a _bad_ idea. That elbow was _bony._ And this wasn't even mentioning the silverware fights that occasionally broke out…

Bottom line was, she and Amelia had retreated to a table close by as soon as Lina started cracking her knuckles and Gourry's stomach had started growling. Zelgadis had left them too, for a table at the far end of the dining hall with his back to them. He'd been in a bit of a bad mood lately.

But none of them were the problem. The problem was…

"Well, I didn't mean it literally," Filia snapped, "but someone's got to do something about that monster!" Filia turned her gaze back to 'that monster' and glowered. "Xellos! He thinks he can just waltz back into the group after what he did last week? Well, he's wrong! It was all his fault that that town got destroyed anyway. If he'd only told us that dragons weren't allowed then we never would've gone there in the first place. Him and his stupid guide book… I bet he would've just let Miss Lina and Mister Gourry eat that Dradora's Surprise too!" Her complexion greened slightly, but she mastered the urge to throw up. "I should give him a piece of my mind!" she declared, reaching almost absentmindedly for the mace holstered to her thigh.

"Right, I just don't think that's going to work," Amelia said weakly, deciding not to mention that the whole 'town destroying' thing only happened because Filia lost her temper.

Fila turned a betrayed look on Amelia. "How can _you_ of all people say that? Aren't you always going on about fighting evil?" She gestured broadly at Xellos's table-for-one. "_There's_ evil!"

"I know that," Amelia said, adding some pepper to her soup. "But do you really think going over there and shouting at him is going to do any good? This is Mister Xellos we're talking about. He'd probably just think it's funny."

Filia relaxed the hand on her mace, feeling slightly dismayed. "But…"

"After all, Mister Xellos _is_ a monster," Amelia went on. "They really thrive off that kind of negativity."

Filia looked angry, then she looked crestfallen, then she looked angry again. "Are you trying to say that there's nothing I can do to punish him for his bad behavior because he'd just _enjoy_ it?" she demanded.

Some of what Amelia said, Filia was forced to admit, made a lot of sense. Xellos seemed to get an unnatural kick out of upsetting people. Then again, when she'd fought with him before… well, he'd smiled and he'd laughed at her, of course, just like the jerk he was. But sometimes there had been a… strained quality to it. Like some of her rage and a few of her insults had actually hit the mark in a way that made him a little uncomfortable. By what Amelia was saying, he should've been having the time of his life… but for some reason her words had stung him…

"I'm not saying that," Amelia explained. "It's just that there are other ways."

Filia's ears pricked up from behind the globular ornaments attached to her headdress. "What kind of ways?"

"Well, if he likes negativity, then you just have to be positive," Amelia said brightly.

Filia's brow crinkled. "Positive?" Treating Xellos with any kind of positivity aside from positive revulsion had never occurred to her.

"You know," Amelia prodded. "Think happy thoughts! Praise life and all its wonders! True Love! Friendship! Justice! Charity!" She smiled. "Be nice to him and he won't be able to stand it."

"I can't be nice to _Xellos_," Filia half-shrieked, half-whispered. "The very idea is just… no! I can't do it!"

"But just think about it," Amelia encouraged her. "There's probably nothing that would bother him more than _you_ being nice to him."

Filia gave it some thought. Of course it was impossible, but… "Would that really work?"

"Oh yes," Amelia said with a fervent nod. "We've threatened it before when we needed him to tell us more than he wanted to." She did a celebratory fist-clench. "Even monsters quake in fear against the power of JUSTICE!"

Now that Amelia mentioned it… she did remember Xellos looking a little uncomfortable when Amelia had climbed the tree in the village square and started proclaiming the virtues of the heavens. Though, then again, Lina had buried her face in her hands, Zelgadis had started muttering what was either a prayer or a curse, and even Gourry had looked a little embarrassed in the face of this impromptu Justice-harangue.

"That's always been our emergency plan for dealing with Mister Xellos," Amelia went on. "You know, if we ever had to fight him or something."

"Really?" Filia asked.

"Yeah," Amelia said, now sounding a little unsure. "Although… Miss Lina says we don't need to worry about that anymore, because if Mister Xellos _does_ get out of control, we can just throw you at him, shout 'Look, a distraction!' and run off."

Filia slammed her hands down on the table. "She said _what?_"

"I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it," Amelia said, holding up her hands and looking like she wished she hadn't mentioned it at all. "It's just that… you know… you two get distracted by each other, that's all."

"We do _not_ get distracted by each other!"

"Of course you don't!" Amelia went with, because Filia was eyeing her silverware in a not-too-friendly manner. In the last silverware battle, Filia had actually _beaten_ Lina. The only one who'd ever managed that before was Gourry. Best not to tempt fate. After all, armed only with a soup spoon, she'd be at a natural disadvantage.

Filia appeared to calm down at this retraction. She breathed deep for a moment and then turned to glance at Xellos. "So… how would I go about this… positive thing around him?"

"Just sort of… radiate happiness," Amelia said thoughtfully, not commenting on Filia's Xellos-distractibility factor.

Filia looked and Amelia with a severe expression. "How am I supposed to radiate happiness around _that?_"

"Well…" Amelia said, sitting back. "Try not to think about it being Mister Xellos. Just think about things that make you happy… flowers… kittens…" She tried to put herself in Filia's shoes. "…antiquing?"

Filia stared at the wood grain for a minute. Would this actually work? On the one hand, yes, negativity was a monster's sustenance so positivity should at least annoy, if not hurt, him. On the other hand, a bit of her soul might _die_ if she actually went through with it. Was this really the only way of effectively fighting Xellos?

She made a fist and slammed it down on the table. "I can do this. I am strong!" she declared.

"Go get him, Miss Filia!" Amelia chirped.

Filia got up, and made that slow, painful walk to Xellos's table. Halfway there she stopped and looked back at Amelia who gave her a thumbs up. She gulped and kept moving.

He looked up at her as he saw her approach and she knew from that moment that this would be no picnic. Just seeing him look at her with that curious expression made her fingers itch for her mace. She noticed that he'd already gotten his dinner order. It was a slice of cherry supreme pie. For _dinner_. Sure, monsters think that the rules don't apply to them—that they can just go around eating dessert for dinner and not face any of the consequences. _Bastards._

She stopped herself and tried to focus. If she was going to get that upset over a slice of pie then this whole operation was doomed. She forced her face into a smile and sat down across from him.

"…Hi," she said.

_And it sounded so wrong!_ Xellos should never be greeted with a simple 'Hi' or 'Hello' or even a slightly frivolous 'Hey there, hi there, ho there.' Not when 'Xellos!', 'What are you doing here?' or 'You've got a lot of nerve to show your face around here after what you did!' were infinitely more appropriate.

He stared into her smiling face. He definitely seemed put-off by the friendly greeting, so Filia hoped her plan was working. But just a second later he turned his attention back to his pie.

"Nice effort, Filia," he said, "but you need to scrunch up your eyes more if you want to get it just right."

That threw Filia's smile completely off. "What?"

"Of course," Xellos said, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his knife, "yours is _way_ better than Mister Zelgadis's try, so I guess I have to give you credit for that."

She looked at him like he was crazy, which she was beginning to think that he was. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"Your impression of me," he explained, taking a bite of pie and chewing it in contemplation. "They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," he added.

She stood up violently. "It wasn't an impression! Why would I ever want to be like a filthy mon—" She remembered her role just in time and calmed down. She lowered herself back into her seat. "I mean, I was just smiling. I'm allowed to, you know," she added with slight petulance.

"I _suppose_ so," Xellos mused, as though this was a debatable issue that he wasn't currently in the mood to argue. "And what exactly are you smiling about?"

Filia was encouraged by Xellos's reaction of mild distaste. Although, to be honest, it seemed like her smiling was bothering him less because it was positive and more because he had the sneaking feeling that she was making fun of him.

"Oh… you know… it's just… a beautiful day, that's all," Filia said, struggling to play her part. "So full of _life_," she added vindictively.

"Life?" he repeated, taking a bite of his pie.

"Yes, _life_," she answered through gritted teeth, her eyes following the movement of his hand.

He noticed this and gestured at his slice of pie with a fork. "Did you want some?" he asked in that awful ingratiating tone.

"No," she said stiffly. "I don't eat pie for dinner." After all, if you don't eat your meat then you just _can't_ have any pudding. _How_ can you have pudding if you don't eat your meat?

"And aren't you the dietary paragon of virtue," he commented nastily, taking another bite.

"Anyway, as I was saying about _life_," Filia pushed forward.

"What about life?" Xellos asked, as though hoping that Filia might get to the point soon.

"Well… uh…" Filia wasn't quite sure where to go from there. She hoped that she'd just praise life a bit and Xellos would shriek and steam would hiss off of him or something… or at least he'd just get annoyed by it. She strove for something to say… Amelia was so much better at this kind of thing. "It's good, that's all." She paused. "And… I'm happy about it."

"Wonderful," Xellos commented dully. "And you were moved to report this happiness to me… why?"

Filia bit her lip. This line wasn't really working. What else besides praising life had Amelia mentioned? Something about true love…

She stared at Xellos for a moment.

_Moving on…_

Well, she'd been trying to think of adorable kittens since she sat down, so the psychic warfare really wasn't working on that side. The problem might have been that she was praising life, smiling, and thinking of happy things without actually being very happy. Since it was all directed at Xellos, there was probably a little too much malice behind it for it to count as positive.

…What else do you do when you're being nice to someone? Well, you compliment them, but she couldn't really do that with Xellos, could she? Certainly not sincerely. And if none of the other ploys had worked without sincerity, then neither would this one.

Then again… there had been a few times since they'd met that Xellos had… well, for want of a better word, he'd complimented her. He probably didn't mean it most of the time, and there was usually some sort of nasty barb attached to whatever he said but… _whenever_ he did it, it was always… strange. Considering that they hated each other, maybe he'd feel the same disequilibrium if she complimented him… even if it _was_ forced.

She ran her eyes over him, searching for something to comment on, whilst he chewed his pie and looked at her like she was losing her mind.

"Your umm…" she decided to go for something she thought was fairly neutral, "your staff is… nice."

He narrowed one eye and gave her a 'Yep. The dragon's definitely losing her marbles' look. "My staff."

"Yes," she went on, now that she was already too deep in to get out. "It's um… well, is that a ruby or something?"

He looked over at the staff leaning against his chair and then gave her a mildly befuddled look. "You're saying you like my staff?"

"Oh yes," she said triumphantly, quite clearly seeing how her comments were confusing him. He was already trying to figure out her game. This was working! "And… your hair is so… shiny and… purple." Thinking up compliments was hard. Not, she was shocked to realize, because she couldn't think of features worth complimenting, but because she couldn't quite explain why they were worth complimenting.

He surveyed her with the same mystified look as she tried to think up a good follow-up to 'purple', but suddenly, the clouds seem to clear. "Ah," he said understandingly, setting down his silverware and sitting back. "I think I know what's going on here."

She strove not to panic or turn around and exchange a look with Amelia. "W-what?" she tried. "Going on? Nothing's going on. We're just talking."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Your technique is understandably awkward, but I think I see what you're going for."

Filia was not entirely sure what he was talking about, but bristled with indignation in any case. How _dare_ he call her technique awkward? Whatever technique he meant.

"I must admit, I'm surprised," Xellos said, looking at her as though in a whole new light. "But then again, maybe I shouldn't be."

"Surprised about what?" she demanded.

"You've been sheltered in that temple your whole life, and now that you're out… well, things are different," he said with a helpless shrug. "You're not used to dealing with this kind of thing."

"What are you talking about?" she snapped. She thought she was fulfilling her role as guide quite well despite the fact that she'd spent most of her life in the temple, and she didn't take kindly to garbage questioning her navigating abilities.

"Of course, it's understandable that you'd have needs. Perhaps I should just be surprised at your gall to actually pursue something like this, though," he looked at her almost fondly, "you've never had a shortage of _that_. Still, it must've taken a lot of nerve to try this—more than I honestly would've expected from you."

He scratched his cheek. "As bizarre as the situation is, I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a little intrigued by the idea."

He looked up, as though deep in contemplation, while she took her turn to look at _him_ like he'd gone mad. Finally he withdrew from his thought process and shook his head, "I'm afraid the answer is no," he summed up. "Even though we'd both obviously enjoy it, we'd really just be asking for trouble."

She slammed her fists on the table and stood up. "Enjoy _what?_" she shouted. "Tell me what you're talking about, you stupid monster!"

He wagged his finger in front of her and treated her to an obnoxious smile. "Dragons are such abysmal flirts."

Three rage-filled seconds later, the table split in half. Xellos stared down at his pie, which now had a mace embedded in it.

"I wasn't finished with that," he said.

A scream shattered every glass in the room, as Filia brought her hands up to the gem on her robes and began glowing gold.

Amelia, having watched the whole thing from a distance, scuttled over to the table Lina and Gourry were still eating savagely at, as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

"Miss Lina," Amelia tugged urgently at her sleeve. "_Miss Lina_, we have to get out of here!"

"Huh?" Lina looked over at the table Xellos was still sitting calmly at, watching the glowing dragon girl in front of him. "Oh geez! What's going on with those two now?"

"I kinda told Miss Filia about our emergency plan for dealing with Xellos, and she thought she'd try it," Amelia explained anxiously.

"You told her about Plan X?" Lina asked sharply. "Well, it doesn't look like it's working!"

"I think she's doing it wrong," Amelia insisted.

"Oh man," Lina said, letting her head fall into her hand. "And I wasn't even done yet. Do you think there's time to get a to-go bag?"

"No!" Amelia shouted.

"XELLOS!" a voice screamed, getting louder and louder until it was punctuated with a laser ray.

"Now, now, there's no reason to be shy about it," was the only thing that they heard before the thunderous splitting of timber left a dragon-shaped hole in the wall.

Lina chewed on a chicken wing idly as she watched a tiny purple dot and a larger golden dot disappear noisily over the horizon. The Innkeeper gawped at the hole in the wall. He appeared to be crying.

"Do you think it's time to retire Plan X?" Lina asked.

"Plan X _can_ work," Amelia maintained.

She turned to look at the buckled wood hanging sadly over the fissure. "It just… obviously doesn't work for all people."


	21. Blended

Here's theme #26.

* * *

**Blended.**

Her parents had passed away long ago; even her adoptive home at the temple of the Fire Dragon King was gone, along with those she'd lived alongside for years. So Filia could be nothing but thankful from the bottom of her heart to even have a family now. It was a family that… admittedly must've looked strange from the outside. None of them had a drop of blood in common. Heck, they didn't even have _race_ in common. But here they were a… blended family.

And it was all because of Val. He was what had drawn them together and he was what they all orbited around now. The tottering child with the unfortunate haircut passing his mornings at the local preschool had no idea what he had brought her; what he had brought them all. Hopefully, someday he would.

There had been many moments in their time together in which that fact had been brought home to her: when she first took Val's egg home; when Jillas, standing on Gravos's shoulders, had hung the shop sign up for their opening day; when Val's egg had hatched. But for some reason she always came back to, of all things, the paperwork.

Filia had been determined to enroll Val in the local preschool. Just because he was a creature of staggering power didn't mean that he shouldn't be allowed playmates. She wanted him to get acclimated to the community of humans, to be accepted, to learn, and to make friends. He deserved that. She desperately needed to give him the happy childhood he'd been denied in his past life.

But that didn't mean she wasn't worried. There were a thousand things that could go wrong. What if he had trouble leaving her? What if he thought she was abandoning him? What if he transformed and burned down the school house? What if the other kids didn't see how special he was?

Well, now that he ran ahead of her to join his buddies on the playground, and she practically had to drag him out of the sandbox at the end of the class, her worries seemed pointless. But they'd been so real when she was filling out the forms to enroll him.

After reading over safety procedures, some legal mumbo jumbo, and filling out his medical history, she'd come to the pick-up authorization. It was a list of people besides herself who she'd allow to pick up her son from school. She put Jillas and Gravos down in a heartbeat. They loved Val and would protect him to their deaths. She knew that it was the delight of their lives that they'd somehow made the transition from his devoted servants to his adoptive uncles.

Her pen stopped hesitantly along the next line, poised to make a familiar stroke. _Why?_ Why did she almost automatically have the urge to write that name? The name of her household's other sometimes-resident. This list was for people she entrusted with the treasure of all treasures in her life. It was not the place for someone who could never prove himself trustworthy.

And yet… she struggled.

She didn't know why she thought of this now, as she added a smattering of spices to the soup that would be that day's lunch. Maybe it was because _he_ was there—humming at her. He'd taken to humming tunelessly whenever he was idly hanging around her house and couldn't think of anything to say to start a sparring session. He knew it drove her completely up the wall. Just lately, though, he'd found a new, even more obnoxious trick: he'd _stop_ humming. Now _that_ set her teeth on edge.

Xellos. No matter how much she wished otherwise, he was also a part of this blended family. And she was almost sure that he hadn't meant to be. Almost.

The fact was, he was just… there. Oh sure, he'd disappear occasionally, but it seemed like he spent all his spare time in her home. She wasn't even sure if he went away at night, which worried her slightly.

So in some ways, it wasn't surprising that she'd thought of him while filling out the form. If she was Val's adoptive mother and Jillas and Gravos were his adoptive uncles then Xellos was… well…

It had been an accident. The look on his face told the whole story, really. Xellos had visited her many times before Val hatched. At first she'd been horrified beyond belief, thinking that he might be there to steal Val away; to deliver him to the monster race and raise her boy into something dark and tainted, or to kill him before he could even take a breath to threaten them. But he'd seemed indifferent to any such scheme. In fact, the unhatched Val had been an afterthought to Xellos, who only brought him up as a means to insult her. "Haven't dropped him yet, have you, Filia?" he'd ask sneeringly. To her dawning surprise, amidst sustained irritation and the desire to smack him upside the head, she realized that he was there for one person and one person alone: _her._

That had changed after Val hatched. Oh, he still showered her with attention—mostly negative, but Val had innocently and unthinkingly propelled him into a new role. "Dudduh," Val had gurgled unmistakably. If Xellos wasn't shocked by this, then he was an even better actor than Filia gave him credit for. It was as though the wind had been knocked completely out of him, and he could do nothing more than stare keenly, curiously, perplexedly, at the little bundle in his arms. Before, Val had just been another tool with which to mock Filia. In fact, he'd only picked up the child in order to better insult her for having to repeat "Say Mommy!" to the baby for an hour before he followed suit. But suddenly he was assigned a new fate in the child's life. Just like that, he was 'Dudduh.'

Filia had tried to fix it. "No, no, no, no, no!" she'd whimpered, snatching her Val away from the still gobsmacked Xellos. "Not 'Dudduh!' Absolutely, certainly, 100% _not_ 'Dudduh!'" But Val had been resolute. "Dudduh," he'd said, stretching out his fat little arms toward his newly christened father-figure.

So by relation, Xellos might have earned the right for consideration on that list. He was 'daddy' nowadays to Val, and there wasn't a damn thing Filia could do about it. No more than she could stop the gossiping villagers from assuming that she and Xellos were married or at least 'shacking up' (their phrase, not hers).

The funny thing was, Xellos had sort of… adapted to his fatherly role. Now he hung around not just to dish out verbal abuse to her, but to play Candyland, tag, and destroy-the-resale-value-of-Filia's-house with the son who had adopted him instead of it being the other way around. He was even talking about building a _tree house_. It was like he'd caught some kind of madness.

But… but on the other hand, she'd thought wildly as she'd stared down at the legal form, he had _no right_ to be trusted with her child. He was a monster! She couldn't trust him just because he _acted_ nice. He always acted nice! That didn't mean there wasn't some kind of sinister scheme under all the niceness. Maybe this was just fun and games for him; a way to pass the time and nothing more. But she couldn't _know_. She could never know for sure whether or not he was just playing the waiting game to devastate her and take away what was most precious to her.

She didn't know how long she'd stared at that form without moving. Her pen had been frozen on the paper, and she couldn't bring herself to move it away or to press forward. She knew she'd have to make a choice, and she wasn't sure if it was the right one.

But that horrible moment of indecision was past now. Val had settled himself pleasantly among his new classmates this last month and, aside from accidentally causing the water table to boil over that one time, he'd been doing just fine. Having Jillas or Gravos occasionally charged to pick him up from class whenever Filia was too busy to go down to the schoolhouse herself to walk him home earned him much respect amongst his peers. Gravos's stature alone was impressive and Jillas managed to dazzle the children with a fireworks display. So Val had no shortage of friends and was a happy, healthy, and surprisingly normal boy.

Xellos stopped humming from his perch on the recliner. Filia scowled and turned away from her cooking.

"Stop that," she ordered him sternly.

Xellos looked up at her with a would-be befuddled expression. "I'm not doing anything," he'd said innocently.

She crossed her arms in a movement that she hoped indicated that she wasn't going to take any crap from him that day. "Don't play dumb with me," she said. "You _know_ what you're doing."

"Why don't you tell me what I'm supposedly doing," he said calmly.

"You're not humming!" she snapped.

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't look at me like that," she glared. "You are! I can _hear_ you not-humming at me!"

"Truly that must be deafening," he said with a smirk.

"It is!" she insisted.

"Would you like me to start humming again?" he offered.

"No!" she shouted, turning back to her lunch preparation. "No," she said more calmly, having caught sight of the clock. It was nearly twelve.

"Well, those really seem to be my only options," he answered. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Why don't—" she began softly. She stopped herself. "Why don't you do something useful for once and take Val home from school," she ordered in a put-on harsh tone that in no way matched her expression.

He couldn't see her face, but he seemed to feel the tension in the air. He stared at her back for a few minutes as she tried to go about the casual business of preparing lunch. Then she heard him rise from his seat.

"I'll be right back," he said, and was gone.


	22. Not Human

**Author's Note: **Theme #56.

* * *

**Not Human.**

She'd never actually claimed that she was human; she'd just… never quite said that she wasn't. It's not like she was trying to keep it a secret or anything, but in all the getting-to-know-yous of moving into a new town and starting a new business, somehow 'I'm a dragon' had just never come up in conversation. It was… a bit awkward and hard to lead up to. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't a big, scaly deal; that after people got to know her they wouldn't care what species she was.

Well, it had come out piece by piece. She had a sort of intuition that was hard to miss and they couldn't help but notice that she seemed a little too well-informed about what kind of weather would be heading their way and who would be sick in the future. That was their first tip off that there was something supernatural about her. They knew she was stronger than a woman her size ought to be, easily lifting large vases and heavy maces that not even the strongest men in their village could budge. Then Jon Calk spread it around that her hat had slipped when she'd reached down to pick up the vase he'd gone to buy and that he'd seen that she had pointed ears. Whispers followed that their mysterious resident might be an elf maiden. But, in a fit of temper, the appearance of her tail had spelled things out once and for all to them. They knew. And they weren't pleased.

She should've known trouble was brewing when they'd been wary of Jillas and Gravos helping her out. She'd tried to tell herself that they weren't bad people—just fearful. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary for beastmen tribes to raid the nearby villages when they couldn't find food. She told herself that they'd learn soon enough that Jillas and Gravos weren't anything to be afraid of…

But no. It was all over now. She'd heard the talk, seen the fear on their faces. The whole town reeked of it. 'Who will protect our children?', 'They can breathe fire, you know!', 'Who's to say she's not here to make war with us?' and 'If we don't do something about her for good, she'll seek her vengeance upon us!' She could feel terror, the said-terror and the unsaid-terror. Her skin itched with it.

And there was no fooling herself or making excuses anymore. Jillas had run back to the shop from the town square that night to report that the villagers were holding a meeting—and it didn't look good. That was when she knew that they had to leave, and fast.

She and Gravos gathered up as much of their merchandise as they could carry. A lot of it would have to be left behind, she realized, but they'd have to take the loss. Jillas, however, carried the most precious cargo of all: the egg containing the reborn Val. Her son.

She dimmed the lamps and nodded to her two beastmen determinedly. Without a sound they crept out the back way of the building that made up their home and their shop. She closed the door behind them knowing that she'd never enter it again.

Then the three of them hiked down the dirt slope at the back of the house, careful not to drop anything that they were carrying or trip in the darkness. Filia had decided quickly that they'd better walk instead of having her fly them away. The villagers had skilled archers and, seeing her in flight, she was sure that they'd use them. She wouldn't be worried for herself if it came to that, but her passengers…

They hadn't gotten more than a few yards away from the house when a glow from behind them forced them to turn around. Filia stifled a gasp. They were there… already. All the men and many of the women of the village were tromping up to her house with torches in hand, chins set determinedly and eyes dancing madly in the flames.

She froze, unsure of what to do. If they made a run for it now, the villagers would surely see the movement and chase them. Loaded down as they were, they wouldn't be able to move very fast. On the other hand, if they stayed where they were and the mob torched her house, they'd easily be spotted in the light. Either way…

If it came to a fight, she could win. But… she did not want to be the thing that struck terror into these villagers' hearts—even if they drove her to it.

"Boss?" Jillas whispered uncertainly.

Filia held up a finger to her lips. Maybe if they were lucky the mob would go inside the house and then they'd be able to…

"You've come to the wrong place," a mild voice said.

Filia bit down on her lip to keep sound from escaping. Xellos was there. He hadn't so much appeared on her porch as stepped out of the shadows like he'd always been there.

The leader of the mob, a man with a coarse, grey beard that took up most of his face, held up his torch to better see the man (or monster, as the case may be) who had addressed him. He scowled. "Aren't you a friend of that blasted dragon? There's no use trying to hide her! We've seen her for the beast she really is!"

"Oh, I don't think anyone could mistake us for friends," Xellos commented in a chillingly light-hearted voice. "And quite the contrary, I've been on to her tricks long before you. The fact is, she's already left—trying to escape on foot."

Filia made frantic eye-contact with Jillas. She'd told him that if push came to shove and she had to fight the villagers, to run away as fast as he could to protect Val. And now, just because that monster was set on destroying everything she sought to build, she'd have to…

"Where is she?" the leader of the mob growled as the torch-waving group grumbled amongst themselves.

"There's no need to be anxious," Xellos tutted. He pointed north across Blackfield Street with his staff. "There. She's got a head start, but if you hurry you might just be able to catch her."

The bloodlust-fueled mob did not need to be told twice. They did an about-face and squeezed their party of maniacs down the narrow street, accidentally burning the hair of the people in front of them along the way, but with a few cries and the smell of burnt skin, they set out on the dragon's tail.

…By going in the exact opposite direction as where she was standing.

Filia sagged with relief. It was only then that she felt the ache in her jaw and unclenched her teeth. She didn't know what to think and could barely command her own body to take her chance and move, guiding Gravos and Jillas back on their silent retreat from the village.

She glanced over her shoulder at her porch one last time, but Xellos was already gone.

* * *

Several hours later they rested in a forest clearing. They were all bone-weary long before then, but Filia had refused to stop until they had left substantial distance between them and the village. Even now, she only wanted to stop for a few hours so that Gravos and Jillas could get some sleep while she kept watch. Who could say when the villagers would realize they'd been duped and turn around?

She warmed her hands against the fire she'd built while Gravos snored lightly and Jillas's tail wagged in his sleep. They could almost pretend they were camping if it weren't for the paralyzing fear of getting hunted down like animals.

"I must say, I thought that was a very disappointing mob," Xellos commented before appearing across from her.

Filia withdrew her hands from the fire and glared at him. She was angry with him, base-line because he was Xellos and Xellos was someone to be angry at. She was more angry because he'd scared her out of her wits earlier and had probably done it on purpose too. Yet, it was also because of him that they'd managed to send the villagers astray and escape them. …That probably made her the angriest of all, but it kept her tirade in check.

"Not even a single pitchfork," Xellos added, shaking his head as though unable to believe how low standards had sunk in the mob game. "A mob without farm equipment has lost its soul."

"What are you, a connoisseur of angry mobs or something?" Filia snapped.

Xellos shrugged. "I suppose you could say that. I've seen a lot of them."

"Gotten chased by them?" Filia asked snidely. "No," she snorted. Mobs _should_ chase monsters, but they never do—only things that look like monsters. "You probably incite them."

"I prefer to think of it as redirecting their negative energies and channeling them toward more productive activities," Xellos answered with a smile.

Filia scowled. Miss Lina was right; Xellos _should've_ been a politician.

"So why didn't you 'redirect their negative energies' toward me?" she asked irritably. "You would've enjoyed that, wouldn't you?"

"I always enjoy seeing you set fire to entire towns and then trample them," he answered serenely. "But I opted for a more prudent course of action in this case."

"_Hmmph!_" was her only response.

The fire crackled and popped loudly as a bit of kindling burned all the way through and shattered into two halves.

"So… where are you headed to now, Filia?" Xellos asked.

Filia opened her mouth to say something but found that she had nothing to say. She closed it, crossed her arms and finally said: "It's none of a _monster's_ business where I go."

"Meaning you don't know," Xellos summed up neatly.

Filia grimaced and turned her nose up at him. "Well in case you hadn't noticed, I was in a bit of a hurry!"

"Of course," Xellos allowed. "You were more concerned with getting away then going anywhere. Though now that you've gotten this far, I'd say it's time to give the matter some thought."

"I don't need advice from you," Filia retorted, though she was damned if she could think of a way _not_ to follow his advice… unless she took up a nomadic lifestyle, but that really didn't appeal to her that much anymore.

"I suppose you could always go to one of the other dragon temples," Xellos mused, unable to grasp the notion that his guidance was not welcome.

Filia sucked in a hasty breath. "Never," she said.

"That down on organized religion nowadays, are you?" He sounded a little too pleased.

"It's not that," Filia glowered at him. "It's just… I swore I wouldn't go back there after what I found out. …And anyway," she said, nodding at Val's egg where it lay wrapped in Jillas's cloak, "I couldn't trust them with Val."

"I suppose it would be a little too much to ask for them to learn a lesson," Xellos said with a little sigh. "Ah well. Then, since the humans have kicked you out and you won't go back to the dragons, I guess the only option left is to throw your lot in with the monster race," he decided gleefully.

Filia fell over backwards and stayed down for a solid five seconds. By the time she picked herself up off the ground her glare of death, doom, and other icky things was firmly in place. "You shouldn't even _joke_ about something like that!"

"Ah, but Filia," he chided, wagging a finger at her, "you must admit that someone of your talent and predilection could be legitimately useful to the monster race."

"I don't _want_ to be useful to you _demons!_" she shot back. Where did he get off questioning _her_ predilections? None of them were monstrous as far as she was concerned! …Well… except for when someone tried her patience while she was holding a bludgeoning implement. But that was righteous fury and therefore shouldn't be counted. "I'd rather stay holed up alone in a cave my whole life than mix with the likes of you!"

Xellos lowered the Almighty Finger of Admonishment (yes, it's deserving of capital letters) and looked mildly disappointed. "Ah well," he said. "I don't really have the authority to make that kind of invitation anyway, I suppose."

He looked a little glum for a moment, but suddenly his spirits seemed to improve. "So, I'm guessing you'll be looking for a cave to live in, then?" he asked brightly.

"Hardly," Filia answered. "I've already decided. I'm going to a new town and trying again."

Xellos raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Because you enjoyed fleeing from an angry mob so much that you thought you'd try it a second time?"

"It'll be different this time!" Filia snapped.

"How?" Xellos asked flatly.

"Well... you don't know!" Filia struggled, trying to put her hope for a brighter future among humans into words. "Maybe the next town will have a more accepting population. And I think I'll let them know right away that I'm a dragon. I think part of the problem last time was that they thought I was hiding it to do them harm."

"That's an excellent idea," Xellos gushed. "Then you'll be driven out right away and won't have to worry about having formed attachments to a place."

"It'll work this time," Filia insisted. "Or next time," she admitted. "Or _some_ time. But we'll find a place for us."

"Well," Xellos admitted hesitantly, "you don't really have any other options since you've snootily shot down both my all-too-generous invitation and the prospect of cave-dwelling."

He leaned his chin in his hand pensively and a funny thought seemed to strike him. "I suppose the human race is the last vestige of hope for community among the outcasts, rejects and oddballs of the world's species," he said, tilting his head toward her and her family of outcasts, rejects and oddballs.

"Then that must be why you spend so much time with Miss Lina and her friends," Filia replied loftily.

That one hit him between the eyes. "Oh really?" he asked, patience a little strained. "And what makes you think I'm an oddball?"

"Well, just look at you," Filia said as though it was self-evident.

Xellos treated her to his 'I just swallowed a bug' smile. He probably wasn't aware, but whenever he was annoyed his hair seemed to react to humidity more than normal.

"Oh, well thank you ever so much for that lovely invitation into your family of outcasts," Xellos said, voice thronging with bittersweetness.

"I wasn't inviting you!" Filia said crossly. "Just because you're weird even for a monster doesn't mean you should get to stay with me."

"Ah, but Filia, shouldn't someone in your position be a little more accepting?" he asked.

"No," she decided instantly. "Why don't you just go back to bothering Miss Lina and leave me alone?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"But Miss Lina's not as fun as you," he simpered.

She made an exasperated sound. "The meaning of my existence is not to make fun for you!"

"Well, perhaps not the _sole_ meaning," he allowed playfully.

If she'd scowled at him any harder her eyebrows would've switched sides. "I don't know what you've been led to think, but you are _not_ the center of the universe," she glowered, and, because he looked like he was about to make a comment, she added: "or the center of _my_ universe."

"Well… I suppose not exactly," Xellos agreed reluctantly. "We just sort of," he twirled a finger around in the air absentminded, "orbit around each other."

Filia was not sure whether to shout at him, turn away from him, or, oddly enough, blush at him. Instead she just muttered something about egomaniac demons and stoked the fire.

Xellos watched her pile more fuel onto the fire and let out a sigh that sounded very satisfied indeed. "So," he asked, "what town were you planning on getting run out of next?" he asked.

Filia began idly stripping the bark off of a spare twig for want of anything better to do. "I haven't decided yet," she answered, not giving his opinion of her prospects the dignity of a response. "I think… maybe I'll stop by Seyruun first and visit Miss Amelia. I've wanted to visit her for awhile and this seems like the perfect time."

"Quite perfect," Xellos agreed. "Having lost most of your merchandise, you'll need something of an advance before you can plunk anything down on a new shop to recoup your losses. And someone as stubbornly good-natured as Miss Amelia is the perfect person to ask for a loan," he added in his you-silly-dragon-your-motives-are-laid-bare-before-me voice.

"Which I would pay back," she shot back a little too quickly.

"Of course you would," Xellos humored her. "Now," he said, leaning back on his hands and nodding at her sleeping companions, "don't you think _you_ ought to get some sleep too? Seyruun is a fair distance away, even if you fly, and I've seen you without the benefit of tea in the morning. It's not a pretty sight."

Filia scowled at him again, but it was half-hearted. The truth was she was exhausted. Arguing with Xellos had perked her up, as it always did for some strange reason, but she was running out of credit with her body and the suggestion of sleep sounded like a good one… even though it was from Xellos.

She curled up in the grass with her back turned to him and tried to make herself comfortable with just her hat for a pillow. "You'd better keep a good watch," she warned him sternly.

"I always do," he said quietly.

And so Filia drifted off to sleep, blanketed in the warm glow of the fire as the priest sitting across from her drummed his fingers against the turf to a patient rhythm that she did not recognize. And though for miles around them the infuriated villagers searched the forest and paths until their torches burnt out, they never found the circle of firelight where the non-humans lay.


	23. No One Has to Know

**Author's Note: **Here's theme #29.

* * *

**No One Has to Know.**

Sleep had been hard to come by ever since Filia joined up with Lina's group for a second time. Being away from home and work even for the short time that her errand would take was nerve-wracking. Was Val doing alright without her? Did he miss her? Was he doing all his homework? Did he get his thumb stuck in the faucet again? Were Jillas and Gravos taking good care of him? And what about her shop? The questions mounted, and she'd have no way of knowing the answers until she returned home—likely to find that her domestic world had kept on turning just fine without her.

Insomnia drove her ever more frequently from her bed and to the lounges and lobbies of the inns, where she'd have a calming cup of tea to try to sooth herself into a more slumber-friendly frame of mind. It didn't help that she'd drawn the short straw again that night and had to share a bed with Lina. Sleepwalking is one thing, but sleepkickboxing is another thing entirely. She rubbed her bruised side ruefully and spared a minute of sympathy for Gourry whenever he and Lina finally decided to get married. When she'd commented upon this to Xellos (after receiving absolutely no sympathy for her Lina-inflicted bruises) he'd cheerfully speculated to her that because of that fact Gourry would probably be forced to tie Lina to the bed for, as he put it, "completely non-kink-related reasons." He had a filthy mind.

_Xellos_. Unfortunately for her, insomnia wasn't her only companion these past few nights. Presumably he didn't sleep, so she always ended up running into him in the lobbies of the inns late at night. The stupid monster was always pestered her with completely unreasonable questions like: "Are you having trouble sleeping?" and "Would you mind telling me where you got that cup of tea?"

So it didn't come as any surprise to her when she looked up from reading the newspaper to see him standing before her in the mostly empty lobby. He nodded to the open space on the sofa next to her. "Is this seat taken?" he asked.

She glared, but didn't even do him the courtesy of directing the glare at him, and plopped the newspaper down next to her. "Yes," she said harshly.

"That's not very polite, Filia," he said, stooping over to move the newspaper. "Nighthawks should stick together."

Filia made a _hmmph_ sound as he sat down next to her, and if you want to talk about politeness he was a little closer than was polite.

Too much time. She spent _way_ too much time in close company with someone who was her most detested enemy. Part of it she could blame on Xellos himself. He liked annoying her, that much was obvious, and he knew full well that keeping himself close to her annoyed her. He didn't seem to have respect for anybody's personal space when it came to that. Perhaps he just liked the discomfort it brought… and more than that, if he took a step forward then all he needed was for her to take a step back and it was like she was admitting that she was weaker than him.

She used to recoil from him, but every time she did so she felt a tiny pinprick of humiliation. Those added up. As soon as she realized that it all amounted to a contest that she did not want to lose she ceased her retreat. Now she didn't give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he'd rattled her. Let _him_ be the first one to shrink away!

Of course, some of the things that drew them together didn't seem to be manipulated by Xellos at all… but they _did_ seem manipulated by… oh, Filia wasn't sure. Perhaps by a vengeful god with a sick sense of humor; or by the almighty forces of irony; or by whatever it was in her that compelled her toward bizarre, awkward, Xellos-related situations; or by gravity. Even surprisingly strong gusts of wind were suspect—that's right, the universe was literally throwing them at each other.

But Filia was determined to endure it all. She could handle Xellos's teasing and her own flair for landing herself in strange situations. He wouldn't make her lose her cool.

"I must say," he commented, turning to her, "I don't think the lack of sleep is doing anything for your temperament."

He wouldn't make her lose her co…

"Or your complexion," he added, leaning closer to scan her face. "Those are some nasty dark circles."

He wouldn't make her… aw, screw it.

"What do you care?" she asked, shoving her face just a few inches from his. _Let's see how he likes someone being in his face!_ she thought violently. _He thinks he can make me shrink away? Ha! I don't retreat, I advance!_

And then something delightful happened. Xellos tilted his head back and away from her, adjusting the distance between them to one that was more conversational and less confrontational. "Can't a person express concern over a companion's well-being?" he asked.

A rush of triumph surged through Filia. She didn't think it would actually work, but she'd made him flinch back!

"A person can," Filia said, moving toward him and taking the distance back, "but _you_ can't."

He frowned and drew himself back once more. "Now that is just not fair. You rage when I treat you cordially and you rage when I don't. How can I win?"

"You can't," Filia countered, bearing down on him once more. "You lose."

Filia had to admit, she could see why Xellos played his little games with proximity. It provided more advantage in an argument than she'd thought it would. Being able to make Xellos back away was ridiculously empowering and leant an extra bite to her comebacks.

"Well then," Xellos said, slipping peaceably away from her once more, "I suppose the only thing I can do is treat you honestly."

"Honestly?" Filia scoffed, moving forward once more. "You don't even know what that means!"

"Don't I?" he asked.

"No you—" Filia stopped mid-movement.

There was something wrong here; something in the tone of his voice and the curve of his lips as he smiled froze her sense of success. Something in that mess of signals made her wonder if he'd actually been retreating… or just reeling her in? He hadn't moved back this time and their faces were much closer together than she intended them to be. He looked at her with eyes that sharpened to challenge her.

She swayed dizzily. Her every uncertain breath fell on his mouth. She felt like she was going to fall. Something was pulling her. It was like gravity, but it wasn't. She wobbled forward and her lips brushed against his chin. She lifted her head, ostensibly to pull herself away, but simply met his lips instead.

And that's… all it was. Just her lips accidentally brushing against his. A mere… lip brushing incident. Not a kiss at all, right? How long can a brush be?

Filia pulled herself away after probably-longer-than-a-brush-can-conceivably-be. Some sense must have reinsinuated itself into her life because the first thing she said was: "Oh my _GOD!_ What have we done?"

Xellos didn't budge, his expression oscillating between gloating and thoughtful. "I could ask you that—but I think I know the answer."

"No, no, no, no, no!" Filia said, shaking her head wildly.

"You kissed me."

"No! No I didn't!" Filia denied. "I mean… alright, I did," she took it back a wretched second later. "But only because you tricked me!" she said, pointing at him.

"I tricked you," Xellos repeated, profoundly unimpressed. "And just how did I trick you?"

Filia was at a loss to explain. It was hard to tell where Xellos's mind games ended and her own paranoia began. She settled for crossing her arms and saying: "You know how you did it so I don't have to explain it to you."

Xellos grinned. "It sounds like you tricked yourself into kissing me."

Filia let out an exasperated sound. "That part doesn't matter anyway," she said because her 'you tricked me' defense wasn't that strong. Her only evidence was 'you moved away from me!' which he'd probably cast as evidence _against_ him tricking her. Best to move on to more important matters. "Look, the point is… the point is that whatever just happened was all a colossal mistake!"

"Whoops," Xellos said, not-so-helpfully.

"Yes," she said coldly. "'Whoops.' So the best thing we can do now is to… to forget it ever happened and go back to how we always treat each other. Just… just sweep it under the rug."

Xellos thought for a moment before finally saying: "I suppose you're right. Let's just forget it then."

Filia stared at him for a moment in helpless bewilderment. Finally she exploded with: "How can you even say that?"

"Well it _was_ your suggestion," Xellos answered, amused.

"That's beside the point!" Filia snapped, near tears. "You honestly think we could just go back to the way things were? You could just forget about…" She choked. "About _that?_ You heartless beast!"

"It wasn't _my_ idea," Xellos repeated. "If sweeping it under the rug doesn't agree with you, then need I remind you that there is another option available?"

The waterworks stopped as the dull weight of exactly what Xellos was talking about dropped into her mind. "No. No. No! How could you even suggest such a thing? That's beyond wrong!"

Xellos shrugged his shoulders. "A lecture on decorum from the dragon girl who just kissed a monster?"

"But…" Filia tried, not really sure where she was going. "I didn't mean…"

"What did you mean?" Xellos asked flatly. "And what do you want to do about it?"

Filia folded her hands onto her lap and look somber. "…If my parents knew…" She closed her eyes ruefully. "…They'd roll over in their graves."

"But they don't know," Xellos said simply, "and the dead are always somewhat behind on news, so no cemetery gymnastics will be required."

Before Filia could lash out at him for not showing proper respect for the dead he'd reached out a hand and put it gently on her cheek. "If you're going to make a decision then don't make one based on your reputation, which, by the way, hasn't been in great shape for awhile now," he said softly. "You know me well enough to understand that I can keep a secret."

Filia stared back into his eyes and for that moment everything he was saying sounded so easy—as easy as falling into that kiss with him had been. Easy and inevitable.

He smiled, centimetering closer to her and stroking the side of her face. "No one has to know about us," he whispered.

Filia slowly leaned closer into him and then abruptly shot backwards, slapping away his hand. "What do you mean 'no one has to know?'" she demanded. "What about _them?_" she asked, pointing to a late night poker game going on at the card table in the corner of the lobby. "They saw us kiss!"

The mercenaries and card sharks who had been watching the drama unfold for the last ten minutes without paying their cards the least bit of attention abruptly turned back to their game. One of them whistled nonchalantly.

"Well…" Xellos began reluctantly, "I'm sure they could make some sharp guesses if they saw us leave together—but they wouldn't _know_ for sure. Anyway, we don't know them so why should it matter?"

Filia crossed her arms and glared at him. "Are you telling me that you _wouldn't_ tell your bosses if we did that?"

Xellos grimaced. "I suppose technically I'd be obliged to report something of that nature to Lord Beastmaster," he admitted. "But if it makes you feel any better, that would not be my favorite report to give."

"Aha! And what about Miss Lina and the others," Filia added, eyeing him suspiciously. "Do you _really_ think that we could keep something like this a secret from them?"

Xellos gave it some thought. "They can be quite observant sometimes, but honestly I think you would've already blabbed to Miss Lina or Miss Amelia before they could figure it out on their own. _You're_ not as good at keeping secrets as I am." He gave it some more thought. "And then I suppose Mister Gourry and Mister Zelgadis would find out from them and we'd have to… I don't know, exchange high fives over the incident," he added, though somewhat doubtfully. Gourry could always be counted on for a high five, but the same could not be said for Zelgadis. The bro code was in sadly short supply in their group.

"And I suppose your little beastmen family would find out too if we kept on seeing each other," Xellos went on, tugging at the thread some more. "Unless of course," he added, eyebrows moving in a way that Filia did not approve of, "you were just planning to use me for one wild, passionate night of carnality and then callously discard me."

Filia scoffed, partially because she felt that that should be her line. "So when you say 'no one has to know,'" she summed up, "what you really mean is _everyone_ has to know!"

"I suppose I do," Xellos admitted. "Is this a problem?"

"Don't _you_ think it is?" Filia screeched back.

"Can't you look at it this way, Filia?" he asked, taking her hand. "Some things are just too important to keep a secret."

…And if you want to know what happened next, after Filia argued and Xellos presented counterarguments; after Xellos attempted to negotiate; after a change of setting was suggested; after Filia admitted that she was getting tired, but didn't want to go back to her own room to get sleep-punched by Lina again; and after Xellos made her an offer that she _could_ refuse, but he hoped she wouldn't… well, you can ask anyone you'd like. Because _everyone_ knows.


	24. Everyone Needs a Hobby

**Author's Note: **Here's theme #95.

* * *

**Everyone Needs a Hobby.**

It all started because Xellos needed a place to keep his books. He didn't exactly subscribe to the notion that knowledge was power, but knew all too well that knowledge was the best way to _leverage_ power. Not only that, but he also knew the location of every five-star ice cream parlor in the entire world. _That_ was something worth bragging about.

He supposed that he could've kept them on the astral side but… well… books seem to sort of _belong_ on shelves. And he didn't like reading on the astral side anyway. The constantly shifting light sources made the prospect rather annoying.

And what is a house but a place to store shelves?

So he'd gotten a space of his own—not to live in, but to keep things in. It worked out well not only for books but for any items that he had to… eh… 'confiscate' because they were too dangerous for human hands, but were not to be destroyed. Plus he could read mid-air without arousing any suspicion.

After awhile the place seemed rather empty so he'd started picking up some furniture to fill it—just for the look of the thing. It was good quality stuff too. Many a burning palace had lost its antique chairs and tapestries, though not to the flames. Xellos didn't like waste.

What he'd built up was, he thought, a fairly well decorated space. Some of it _was_ a little useless—but at least it looked nice. Unfortunately he could, at that moment, see none of his valuable, ill-gotten furniture acquisitions. He was, however, getting a great view of the red plush carpet.

"You may rise," said a female voice that was all authority.

Xellos leaned on his staff to pull himself from his kneeling position. Lord Beastmaster, another monster who knew the value of cutting out a corner of real-space for oneself—was looking around the room with cool interest.

"So, this is where you've been living," she said.

Xellos shrugged. "Not 'living' as such, Lord Beastmaster," he said. "It's more for storage and writing reports."

"Ah," Zelas said. "So if you're not living here then you've been living with that Filia girl you've mentioned with disturbing frequency?"

Xellos winced. When Lord Beastmaster got to asking questions it was like a tickle on an open wound. "No," he said carefully. "I simply drop by her home when I have no other matters to attend to. Occasionally," he added quickly.

"Occasionally," Zelas repeated.

Xellos nodded fervently.

"Xellos?" Lord Beastmaster asked patiently.

"Yes, Lord Beastmaster?"

"There are forty-eight vases in this room alone. Have you noticed?" she asked.

The inconvenient fact sunk into Xellos's head. "Are there that many, really?" he asked with slathered-on innocence.

"You put them here," Lord Beastmaster said without rancor but with a deep and dangerous certainty, "you'd know."

"Well…" Xellos tried. "Well," he said again and added a little laugh, "is forty-eight vases really that many when you get right down to it?"

"Forty-eight vases in one room is an undeniably fanatical amount," Lord Beastmaster stated. "Explain."

Xellos struggled. In his vast repertoire of excuses there was nothing about suspiciously large pottery collections. "I… well, I enjoy art is all."

"Particularly vases?" Lord Beastmaster asked gesturing to a vase with a kitschy cat pattern painted onto it.

"Oh certainly," Xellos agreed.

Lord Beastmaster passed a series of small vases on the window sill. One said 'home' another said 'is' another 'where', 'the', 'heart', and 'is.' "How fortunate that you should suddenly discover your latent fondness for vases at the exact moment that the pretty dragon girl you met in your travels with Lina Inverse starts selling them."

Xellos was not dumb enough to try 'I hadn't noticed she was pretty.' He was, however, dumb enough to say: "That _was_ very lucky for me."

Lord Beastmaster gave him a look that made him question whether his luck would hold out much longer. "You wouldn't happen to have a collection of maces somewhere in this house now would you?"

"I'm afraid not," Xellos said pleasantly, but if he'd been a human sweat would have been pouring down the back of his neck. "Filia won't sell me any weaponry."

Zelas raised an eyebrow, a white painted vase with ceramic roses around the neck between her fingers. "Does she think you need them?"

"You'd have to ask her," Xellos said and instantly regretted it. A confrontation between Lord Beastmaster and Filia did not seem destined to end well.

Zelas nodded. "And… those flowers on the table?" she asked. "The ones in yet another vase?"

Xellos grimaced. "…Snapdragons," he said, his voice coming from a long way off.

"Yellow snapdragons too, I noticed," Lord Beastmaster commented.

"They may be, I admit, rather unfortunately named, but they also add a much needed pop of color to the room," Xellos tried desperately.

"I see," Lord Beastmaster said, moving on. "And this… pile of rubble right here?"

"Oh, _that._ That's a vase that Filia threw at my head," Xellos answered.

Lord Beastmaster rubbed her temples, her patience rather strained at this point. "_Why_ do you have this?"

"Well," Xellos struck out, not a hundred percent sure of the answer himself, "I… with the experimental vein running through the art world at the moment I thought it might turn out to be a rather valuable pile of rubble."

Zelas stared at him.

"It's an example of deconstruction, you see," Xellos finished.

Lord Beastmaster dug out her pipe, lit it without the aid of matches, and took a long, long drag before finally saying: "This Filia—the one you're constantly claiming to dislike, usually when that fact is not relevant in the least to our conversation—you realize you're making her rich by buying all these, don't you?"

Xellos mumbled something.

"What was that?" Zelas asked, leaning forward. Her hairspray-is-for-lesser-beings look never once fell out of place.

"I… I have a frequent shopper's card," Xellos said, evidently embarrassed. "So I _do_ get a discount."

In the silence that followed that statement a spark fell from Lord Beastmaster's pipe and onto the carpet where it sizzled gently, producing a small flame. She stepped on the newborn flame, smothering it, but her expression was strained, as though she'd been debating the action.

She looked up from the suppressed fire and at her only servant. "Is this going to become a problem?" she asked. "Is this _already _a problem?"

Xellos cast his eyes down. "Everyone needs a hobby, Lord Beastmaster," he said. There might have been sulk in his voice if it hadn't been pushed out by fear.

"Very true," Lord Beastmaster allowed. She'd been cultivating quite a few herself—all of which were strongly discouraged by the Seyruun Surgeon General. "But Xellos," she said, "this hobby of yours really has nothing to do with collecting vases, does it?"

"…Not at all, Lord Beastmaster," Xellos was finally forced to admit, his smile a rather mangled, beaten thing at this point. "Not at all."

Lord Beastmaster tossed the miniature vase she'd been holding in the air. When she caught it she grinned, incisors exposed. "Good," she said in a satisfied tone. "I thought they were a little frou-frou for your tastes anyway."

She set the ceramic paperweight down on the table. "Everything's in order then," she said with the air of one who's completed a successful inspection.

"It… is?" Xellos asked weakly.

"At least an acceptable amount of disorder—though if this dragon pursuing hobby of yours gets too much for you, you might want to take up something a little less dangerous… like lightning charming or breaking your own fingers."


	25. Dusk

**Author's Note: **Here's theme #14. But hurrah! This is actually my 25th Summer Nights challenge! That means I'm a quarter of the way through the list. If I keep going at the pace I've kept so far, I should finish all 100 themes in approximately... the latter half of 2014. HMMM.

* * *

**Dusk.**

The sky was in the last throes of sunset—orange only remained in faint traces and close to the ground. Day was all but dead and the eventide was only just flowing in. For the moment the world was at a point in between. What it _was_ exactly at that point had been a matter of heated discussion between the dragon and the demon as they walked the lantern lit path through the park. Filia had called it twilight, but Xellos seemed to think that it couldn't be proper twilight until the first stars showed up. Filia had never heard of such a thing and demanded to know what he'd call it. Xellos suggested gloaming which Filia instantly shot down because she felt it sounded 'stupid.' Xellos actually seemed a little offended on behalf of the word. In the end, they'd decided to call it dusk and leave it at that. Dusk was all about happy mediums anyway.

Filia was grumbling—not really saying anything, but general displeasure radiated off of her. All she'd wanted was a little fresh air, a little time in the cool almost-night, and at least, _at least a little_ time away from Xellos. But of course she couldn't even have that. Xellos _knows_ when he's not wanted, and his reaction is always to invite himself in anyway.

She stopped walking abruptly and took a seat on one of the park benches, not bothering to ask him if he'd like a rest or not. He'd sat down next to her with a: "You're not out of breath already, are you, Filia?"

Filia sniffed. "Hardly. I only wanted to just… enjoy the park for a little while. Though I'd enjoy it a lot more," she'd added aggressively, "if you'd sit on one of the other benches."

"Ah, but then I wouldn't have this view," he said, pointing with his staff upwards.

Filia followed his gesture with her eyes toward the lantern pole where one end of a large spider web was attached, stretching like a net over to a tree. The flickering candlelight from the lantern made the strands visible against the sky, so it appeared to rise like a wispy, mildly fly-blackened moon. In the middle of it glittered spider. It may have been red or it may have only looked red in the firelight.

Filia wrinkled her nose. "Disgusting," she said, crossing her legs irritably.

Xellos looked at her curiously. "Don't tell me that you're one of those people who are more afraid of spiders than death."

"I'm not _afraid_ of spiders," Filia countered harshly. "I just hate them—both the eight-legged _and_ the two-legged kind," she lobbed in his direction.

Xellos carefully ignored the barb on that statement and instead just gestured vaguely at the bug. "Are you telling me that you have no admiration for the spider? Its laudable economy of effort? The beauty of the silken traps it weaves? Its acrobatic grace and its force of design?"

"Absolutely not," Filia said certainly.

Xellos gave the web a thoughtful look and then shrugged. "I thought it was a pretty looking web—especially with the light shining on it like that."

"It's used to trap things," Filia said vehemently, mad, but not particularly focused on _actual_ spiders at this point.

"Pretty things usually are," Xellos observed. "How could you trap someone with something they didn't want?"

"You'd know all about that," Filia said darkly.

He gave her a grim smile. "You think I'm a spider?"

"Well if all eight shoes fit!" Filia said back.

"You were calling me a cockroach only this morning," Xellos pointed out. "You need to get your bug-based comparisons straight."

"You're both," Filia said sulkily.

"Fine then," Xellos said, moving on, "if you have no admiration for the spider, then what about pity? Spiders are territorial and live solitary lives. Surely that's cause for some sympathy."

"They live solitary lives because if they're too close together they eat each other," Filia pointed out. "I'm not going to pity cannibals because they lose friends every time they get a snack attack! And they don't hunt honestly. They use cheap tricks."

"But Filia," Xellos said, clucking his tongue. "Spiders are only being spiders. You can't blame them for the lifestyle they were made to live."

Filia was annoyed, partly at Xellos, partly because she wasn't sure if he was making an excuse for spiders or for himself. If the latter was the case then he was fooling himself _and_ deserved a punch in the face. "_People_ have a choice," she said.

Xellos chuckled darkly. "People like to think they have choices."

That sentence fell like a heavy stone into the pool of their conversation. It was impossible to speak again until the ripples had faded.

"So why don't you tell me about your choice, Filia," Xellos went on. "Which would you rather be: the spider or the fly?"

Filia glared at him. She didn't like either of her choices. She tilted her glare huffily away. "Neither," she said. "I'd be a butterfly."

"Oh?" Xellos answered, with barely contained amusement. "So you'd be a _pretty_ fly? I'm afraid you'd only make a more attractive meal," he said as a moth, the butterfly's less gaudy cousin, flew into the spider's web and flapped its glued wings pointlessly.

"Yes, but butterfly wings are toxic," Filia answered in a know-it-all tone that she loved to use on Xellos and hated when he used it on her. "If you ate me you'd suffer for it."

Xellos grimaced. "You know," he said after awhile, "I believe you might well be a butterfly."

"Fine by me," Filia said smugly.

"Of course," Xellos finally added thoughtfully, "I think that most of what butterflies do is flutter around and have sex. So either you're not much of a Lepidopterist or I don't know you as well as I'd like to."

Filia made a profoundly displeased sound. She crossed her arms. "I'm changing my bug," she announced.

"Fine then, go ahead," Xellos said, smirking as he readied to attack her next option.

"I'll be…" Filia began, but the answer was so simple, "a bee."

Xellos opened his mouth to make some sort of smart comment, but then closed it, nodding slowly. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I could see that. A flying, oversized, golden zealot. That works."

Filia scoffed. "What makes a bee a zealot?" she demanded, not even touching the 'oversized' part.

"Well, they're entirely focused on the hive—not themselves as individuals—and they'll make any sacrifice in the name of the hive," Xellos explained.

"But… but bees are also hard workers," Filia pointed out, not willing to go into the tangled, bloody issue of sacrifices for the many.

"True," Xellos agreed. "They work themselves to death. And as for your complaint about butterflies," he added, somewhat gently, "while the queens are promiscuous, and the drones… well, that's their _entire_ purpose, at least you can take solace in the fact that the workers are chaste."

"And bees are not defenseless," Xellos added thoughtfully. "But using their last, best weapon means death…"

"You're just bringing us farther and farther away from the point!" Filia cut through his thoughts. "This isn't about insect comparisons—this is about spiders—it's not even about _real_ spiders," she corrected herself. "It's about deceivers, trap-builders, _web-weavers_," she added venomously.

Xellos curled his gloved fingers around the armrest of the bench. The lantern lights seemed to grow brighter as the sky grew darker. "I don't see why you can't at least appreciate a good trap. And in any case, you needn't worry. I'm not spinning any webs tonight to catch you."

"You wouldn't know what to do with me if you caught me," Filia said haughtily.

She could hear Xellos gritting his teeth from next to her. "I'm sure I'd manage to figure something out," he said edgily.

"_Hmmph._"

The spider had finished mummifying its catch and had returned to the center of the web to let its dinner decay into a gooey liquid.

"What about you, Filia?" Xellos asked speculatively. "Have you ever spun a web and set it out in the gl—_dusk_ to wait for your quarry?"

"Of course not," Filia answered, offended. "_I_ don't manipulate people like you do."

He looked at her carefully as though searching for a tell. "You believe that, don't you?" he asked softly.

"It's the truth!"

Xellos shook his head. "You don't spin with malice and forethought, but whether mindful or not you're quite adept at wrapping your gossamer strands around your victims. I know."

"What are you talking about?" Filia demanded, taken aback.

"Yes," Xellos said, almost to himself, "I think you wouldn't be nearly as good at it if you were actually trying. That's the real charm of it."

Filia stood up irritably. "Are you just going to sit there and mutter about bugs all night?"

"I suppose not," Xellos said, rising and trailing after her. "We ought to be getting home so that you can wrap me up and eat me."

"I am _not _a spider!" Filia shrieked.

"I've seen you with fangs," Xellos said disbelievingly.

"You scum! If anyone's a murderous night creature, it's you!"

Xellos pointed at her mouth, not considering that under the circumstances he was putting his finger in great peril. "There they are. The fangs are out."

"YOU!"


	26. My Fancy Way of Saying Hello

**Author's Note: **Here's theme #86.

* * *

**My Fancy Way of Saying Hello.**

Filia opened the door to the kiln and took a deep breath. It was cool now, but she could still smell the smoky mixture of earth and flame. She reached in and felt the ceramic surface of the piece within. She looked it over careful, spinning it gently. So often a promising vase could be ruined in its trial by fire. Here, though, all seemed to be well. There was certainly no warping, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she had confirmed that the new paint she'd bought had held up under the heat. She smiled. All that was left was to put this on the shelf, where it would surely find a home when her shop doors opened the next morning.

She lifted the vase from its warm and cozy mortar womb, hugged it to her chest, and carefully shut the oven door. She turned around and walked two steps—maybe three.

"Salutations, Filia."

_Crash._

"Oh dear," commented Filia's saluter. "How very clumsy of you."

Filia was already crouched down on the floor grasping pottery shards in a kind of desperate rage. "Xellos!" she shrieked at the figure who could've only materialized by magic or by hiding in the back of her kiln. "This is all your fault!"

Xellos arched an eyebrow. "Is it my fault that you scare easily?"

Filia was still gripping a pottery shard like a dagger when she rose. She came back with a red-faced and sullen: "You don't scare me. You just startled me, that's all."

"Forgive me," Xellos said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Is it my fault that you _startle_ easily?"

"Anyone would be startled if someone just randomly appeared behind them," Filia countered. She tossed down the shard on the floor with the rest. "But you _always_ do that. It's downright rude."

"I thought I greeted you quite politely," Xellos replied. "I believe _you're_ the one between the two of us that can't seem to master basic etiquette."

Filia crossed her arms. "It's not polite to wait around until people are carrying something heavy or fragile before you materialize right behind them. It doesn't matter if you say your phony 'salutations'; you might as well say 'boo!' It's mean-spirited and don't pretend it's anything else, you trash!"

"Well, then it was poorly received," Xellos commented sourly. If he'd lied to her he'd have blamed her for hearing it wrong. "So why don't you tell me how someone mannerly enough to resort to name-calling two-minutes into a conversation thinks she should properly be greeted?"

"_Polite_ people use the door," Filia spat.

Xellos hesitated. "…But doors are so unnecessary," he replied with the slightest hint of fretfulness in his voice.

"They are not!" Filia shot back. She scowled at him. "I can teleport some too, y'know," she reminded him, "but I don't just randomly appear in people's living rooms. There have to be certain boundaries."

Xellos shook his head, making little clucking noises with his tongue as he did so. "But we don't operate under those boundaries, Filia. That's not our procedure." He placed a hand on his chest. "I greet you by rising from your shadow and talking in your ear, and you greet me by dropping something on the floor, screeching my name and then accusing me of something ridiculous. I see no compelling reason to change any of this."

"You wouldn't," Filia answered darkly. "And I'm _not_ greeting you when I do that."

"Really?" Xellos asked thoughtfully. "Then I suppose you're rather rude as well, by your own standard," he concluded.

Filia couldn't really argue against that, but that was alright because she knew very well that Xellos was no good and that bad people deserve bad manners. "Maybe I'd greet you politely if you greeted me politely," she said with a self-righteous sniff.

Xellos mulled over this in his mimed sort of way, cupping his chin in his gloved hand. He grinned at her. "I suppose it's never too late to start again," he said, and then disappeared.

She stared at the place he'd just been standing for a moment, then groaned and resolved not to entrench herself in his nonsense. She walked over to one of the shelves where the broom and dustpan were leaning.

There was a knock at the door. Filia froze for a minute, her gaze fixed on the side-door. She unfroze, muttered a word she wasn't particularly proud of knowing, and continued toward her cleaning implements as if she hadn't heard anything out of the ordinary.

By the time the second knock struck she was already making her way back to the pile of rubbish that had once been a promising new vase. By the third knock she'd begun clearing up the mess. By the fourth knock Jillas had raced into the room.

"Oi'll get it," he declared running for the door.

"No!" Filia whisper-shouted at him, holding an arm up and signaling wildly.

Jillas gave her a puzzled look as the fifth knock struck. "But, Boss," he began, "what about…?"

"Trust me," Filia said heavily, "it's no one we want to talk to."

Jillas gave her a knowing nod. "A salesman, right?"

The sixth knock sounded and Filia glared at the door. "_Much_ worse than a salesman."

A fresh look of horror suffused Jillas's vulpine features. His hand strayed to his belt where he'd once kept grenades before Filia had requested that he not go so heavily armed. "You don't mean…" he began.

Filia nodded darkly.

"Tax-collectors?" Jillas finished ominously.

Filia ceased her nodding. "No, it's just—"

"You ignored me," Xellos accused, popping into existence predictably inside Filia's personal space bubble.

Filia sprung away from him; not to a conversational distance, but certainly to an _argumentative_ distance. "So what?" she retorted.

"I wouldn't say that ignoring someone counts as a polite greeting," he pointed out with damnable reasonableness, though not without a certain irked increase in grip on his staff. "And I was so very courteous to you this time around."

"I only said I _might_ be polite to you," Filia countered, exploiting her loop-hole. "I didn't say I actually would. And it's not courteous if you only play at manners and then just barge in and do whatever you want when it doesn't work out the way you want it."

"Well, it's obvious to me that rudeness is the only thing you respond to, Filia," he said, raising his index finger.

Filia's fingers twitched; they felt magnetically drawn to Xellos's neck. "My only _response_ is to tell you to leave my house this instant or I'll start testing the maces on you!" she snarled.

Xellos shrugged carelessly. "But it's a _response_ nonetheless, Filia," he reasoned. "I'm not picky as long as I get one."

"You—!" Filia began, incensed.

"Umm... 'ey, Boss," Jillas cut in.

The corners of Xellos's lips turned downward in displeasure. Because of that interruption he'd be left in permanent suspense as to what Filia had been about to call him. It could've easily been the generic 'monster' or 'demon'; likely her usual 'raw garbage' or a variant thereof; but it also could've been cockroach… snake… beast… devilishly handsome gadabout… _Yes_, he decided, _let's go with that last one._

"What?" Filia demanded, her anger still at high-levels when she turned to Jillas.

"It's just…" Jillas began, "is this guy bothering you, Boss?"

Filia sunk her head into her hand in frustration. "Always and every day," she said harshly.

"I'm not here _every_ day," Xellos pointed out.

"_Always and every day_," Filia reaffirmed.

"If that's 'ow it is…" Jillas began resolutely, turning to face Xellos with a steely one-eyed look. This was the same person who'd threatened Lord Val for such a long time and had now turned his negative attention toward his new boss. He gulped. He knew he didn't stand much of a chance against someone who'd given even Lord Val a run for his money, but… some things just have to be done. He wasn't about to let anyone antagonize his boss. He lowered his voice. "…Oi'm going to 'ave to ask you to leave," he finished.

Xellos rested his head against his hand and chuckled. "Oh, please, do," he urged. "Go on and ask."

"Don't bother asking him," Filia counseled her loyal fox, throwing Xellos a disgusted look. "Talking to Xellos is impossible."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Xellos returned slowly, as if he felt Filia's assessment rather unfair. "I'm sure I wouldn't insist on staying here if I felt myself prompted to leave."

Filia snorted.

Xellos leaned in closer to her and gave her the kind of look an ingratiating teacher might give to encourage a dull-witted student. "You just have to ask the right way."

"What's the 'right' way?" Filia asked skeptically.

"Well," Xellos said, grinning, "we've already discovered how you and I say hello to each other; now we just need to find a way to say good-bye to each other in our own, special way."

"And what way would that be?" Filia asked again, grinding her teeth together.

"You're actually following the procedure I want us to adopt pretty well so far," Xellos observed cheerfully. "First off, you stop ordering me out of your house and grudgingly accept my presence, which you've done already."

"'Grudgingly' is right," Filia muttered. How very like Xellos to only take it as his cue to leave when people stop asking him.

"Then I give you my good-bye," Xellos continued as if this interruption hadn't occurred. "And _then_," his eyes flicked open and he surveyed her conceitedly, "you beg me to come back to you."

"What?" Filia demanded incredulously. "There's not even the slightest chance that I'd actually ask _you_ to—"

He leaned in closer and kissed her on the cheek.

"Bye, Filia," he half-sang at the still stunned dragon before he disappeared from view.

Filia's mouth hung open in shocked stillness for a few seconds, blood rising in her face and making it almost glow red. Then finally she clamped her mouth shut and clenched both her fists.

"Xellos!" she yelled into the empty space he'd occupied. "Come back here, you creep! What makes you think you can do something like that and then just run away? You won't get away with this!"

Jillas, for his part, stared from his boss—raging and stamping her feet, on the verge of a tantrum and still yelling, red-faced at her departed guest—to the smugly vacant space in front of her.

"What the 'ell was all that about?" he wondered to no one in particular.


	27. Hatred and Loathing

**Author's Note: **Here's theme #91.

* * *

**Hatred and Loathing.**

Filia sat on the very edge of the stone perimeter around a bubbling fountain. She didn't want to get her cloak wet, but the cool spray in the air felt nice as it hit her face. The fountain was tucked away from the crowded center of the town she and the others had stopped in and was surrounded mostly by cafes and restaurants thin on customers in the middle of the afternoon. She couldn't have possibly staked out a better space to relax between the soothing wash of the water, the sunshine, and the far-enough-removed hum of shoppers beyond the square. Nevertheless as she looked into the coin flecked bottom of the fountain, she couldn't help feeling dissatisfied.

"Maybe," she said sourly to herself, "it's because Miss Lina took the last of my money and ran off to that all-you-can-eat buffet, so I don't even have a single coin left to make a wish with."

Her hand strayed to the satchel that had once contained the meager salary the temple had provided her with and now only contained lint and a bit of quartz she'd found on the ground and absentmindedly picked up. _But what would I wish for_, she wondered, _if I had a coin?_

Well, she couldn't help but realize, there were a lot of things she could wish for. First and foremost she could wish that Miss Lina, Mister Gourry, and Miss Amelia would look up from their culinary tour and realize that they couldn't afford to sample every item in every restaurant in _every_ town they stopped in, mend their ways, become fiscally responsible, and perhaps take up some sort of ascetic philosophy that meant eating only very tiny amounts.

…But that was downright unlikely.

She could wish that Mister Zelgadis would quit threatening librarians at sword point until they showed him their rarest books so that she could browse the serials at her leisure without having to worry about being kicked out of places. She could wish that the temple in its theoretically infinite wisdom would give her more money to fund this high-priority mission. She could wish for strength to avert the threatened destruction of the world. She could wish for a clue to the next Dark Star weapon. She could wish to find out whether or not what Valgaav had said about her people was true.

She could wish to find out what Xellos was up to in all of this. She could wish to find out where exactly he was right now and what he was doing. She could wish that he'd stop being so _obnoxious_ all the time. She could wish that if he was going to go away then he'd at least give them fair warning about it and tell when he'd be back. She could wish that he'd quit with that high and mighty attitude all the time and stop making it seem like everything was always her fault. She could wish that he wouldn't always have that insufferable grin on his face. She could wish that something terrible would happen to his hair. She could—

She paused and unclenched her teeth. That was… probably too much wishing about Xellos anyway. But still! It irked her! Wasn't everything else they had to deal with bad enough without having him popping unexpectedly in and as unexpectedly out without even doing them the courtesy of letting them know anything? She didn't know how he did it, but sometimes she thought Xellos managed to be _more_ annoying when he was gone than when he was actually around.

Not that she wanted him back or anything. It was just… was a little consistency and communication really too much to ask?

"Miss, might I have an extra lemon wedge and a glass of ice?" an ingratiating voice from nearby asked.

Filia whipped her head around with the same _whoosh_ as a pipe being swung through the air.

There he was! He must've known they were in this town but he was taking his sweet time before he let them know he was back—just kicking back on a café patio drinking an iced tea without telling them a single thing!

She stormed over. "Xellos!" she shrieked.

"Oh, hello there, Filia," he said mildly as she approached his table. "Could I treat you to a drink? I'm sure the dragon race hasn't parted with anything more than the absolute minimum amount to cover your expenses, and I can afford to be a little less miserly even for the likes of you."

"Shut up," she ordered him, but because she was thirsty she turned toward the (somewhat frustrated looking) waitress and said: "I'll have a cup of cinnamon tea," before sitting down across from the hated monster and directing her attention back toward him. "Don't pretend you know anything about the financial policies of my people—and that's beside the point anyway. Where have you _been?_"

Xellos smiled and took a drink from the thin black straw rising from his beverage. "That's…" he began.

"Forget I asked," Filia cut across him, denying him the pleasure of getting to say his trademarked phrase.

"Well, what did you expect, Filia?" he asked as the waitress came back with Xellos's iced tea accoutrements. "Am I supposed to confess all my secrets to you? I didn't know we'd gotten that close."

"We're not close," Filia snapped. "We've never been close and we'll never be close."

"I suppose I shouldn't doubt the mighty divination powers of a golden dragon," Xellos said, leaving the extra items he'd asked for untouched—they'd only been requested because annoying the wait-staff was a little hobby of his, "but given your level of incompetence, I think I will anyway."

Filia sputtered and fumed. She hated the mild-mannered way he answered her. _She_ was ready to jump out of her skin, but _he_ was replying to her comments like he was just taking his turn in a pleasant game that he had a clear advantage in. She lived for the moments when he was lost for a response, when a twitch fidgeted from under his temples, and when his hands unconsciously became fists. Those were too few and too far between though. Most of the time _she'd_ have to hold herself back from tackling him and _he'd_ just laugh at her.

What she wanted now was a comeback—something like the kind he threw at her without apparent effort. There'd be a pretence at manners with an undercurrent of hostility and a finely crafted barb that would not just sting and provoke anger, but do so _insistently_. Perhaps there'd even be a confusing spin—an insinuation only half-expressed to turn over in her mind again and again long after she wanted to stop thinking about it.

She couldn't think of any such comment, so she forwent the bells and whistles and delivered her point undisguised. "I _loathe_ you," she informed him, packing as much buzzing animosity as she could into those three little words.

He didn't smile at her—his expression was more thoughtful. "You don't really, you know," he finally answered her after a moment.

"I most certainly do!" Filia answered forcefully.

"No," Xellos said, idly tapping his glass as Filia's hot tea was placed in front of her. "You may hate me, but you don't loathe me."

Filia scowled. Xellos was just splitting hairs now—stupid purple hairs. "Those mean the same thing!"

Xellos tutted and waved his finger in her face. "Silly Filia," he said, "don't you know that there's no such thing as a _true_ synonym?"

Filia crossed her legs and took a too-hasty swig of her tea. She tried to pretend she hadn't scalded herself as she demanded mockingly: "_Fine_, Professor Xellos, then what's supposed to be the difference between hatred and loathing?"

"Well," Xellos said thoughtfully, perhaps wishing he had a chalkboard on which to make his point, "they're obviously rather similar concepts, as you've noted. Both are characterized by intense dislike."

"And I do dislike you," Filia cut in because she could, "_intensely."_

"I've noticed," he said, annoyed at the interruption. "The difference here is how that disapproval is manifest. Loathing is a sort of dry, cold attitude, whereas hatred is characterized by _passionate_ dislike."

"So…" Filia began, trying to get to the meat of his implication, "you're saying I don't loathe you because I dislike you passionately?"

"You're passionate in general," Xellos commented as though sharing a cherished observation, "but particularly toward me."

Filia glared at him. She certainly didn't like the sound of that. "In the most negative way possible," she added as a qualifier.

"Of course, Filia," Xellos said in his most obvious 'I'm humoring you' tone, "but that does point to the most important difference between loathing and hatred. Loathing is a repelling force while hatred is an attracting one. _That's_ the real tell that you don't loathe me. You're certainly not repulsed by me."

Filia didn't know where he got 'certainly.' Probably from the same place of ego-centric madness that convinced him pageboys and cheap staffs were at the height of fashion. "I am so repulsed by you," she answered venomously, "because you're _repulsive!_"

"No, you're attracted to me," Xellos corrected with a patient smile, "because I'm attractive."

Filia nearly knocked over her tea when she collapsed face first onto the table in a fit of exasperated fury. The silverware rattled dangerously as she pounded her fist over and over into the tabletop. _Ego-centric madness was right!_

"What could _possibly_ make you think something so ridiculous and obviously untrue?" she demanded.

"It's not the least bit ridiculous," Xellos chided. He gave her a would-be sympathetic look. "You don't need to feel ashamed of it. It's perfectly understandable."

She was getting a tension headache from gritting her teeth. She stood up in a huff and let out an exasperated groan. "I'm not ashamed of anything because that's not _true!_" She put her hands on her hips and looked him squarely in the eye. "I don't know where you get your illusions, but for your information I find every single, solitary, tiny aspect of you completely and utterly repulsive, you worthless pile of trash!"

Xellos responded to her tirade with an unaffected shrug. "If that's true, then why are you here?" he asked.

Filia froze. "What?"

"If you'll recall, I didn't initiate this little conversation," Xellos pointed out placidly. "If you really loathed me then you could've kept your sad perch on the edge of the fountain or left the area altogether. I'm entirely avoidable at the moment, so if I was truly so revolting to you then you could've easily opted out of dealing with me and feeling my presence. Instead, you couldn't help but choose to join me—as near as possible. You are _attracted_ to me."

Filia opened her mouth to let out a disbelieving sound. A reply to such a feeble line of reasoning had to be easy enough to come up with, right? So… why couldn't she manage one?

"I just wanted to be angry at you up close," she responded in what she knew was a poor excuse.

Xellos smiled. "Up close is the point," he answered.

"Well, I don't need to be up close," Filia snapped, snatching up her cup of tea. "You're right about one thing—you _are_ avoidable right now. So I'm just going to go off and finish my tea in better company: my own!"

"You do that, Filia," he replied blithely.

She clomped over to a table on the patio that was as far away from him as it was possible to be without leaving the eating area entirely. She slammed down her cup of tea, much of which sloshed on the table as a result, swept her cloak out dramatically, and sat down.

Across the patio, Xellos muttered quietly to himself: "Five, four, three, two…"

Filia's chair creaked as she got up and strode back over to him purposefully, her tea forgotten at the table. "Well, I don't see what difference it makes if I'm here or there! I despise you as much up close as I do from a distance. So leaving you alone would just be letting you get away with everything!"

Xellos snickered unkindly and leaned back in his chair which provoked a new eruption of fury from Filia. "Stop laughing!" she commanded.

"Oh, it's alright, Filia," Xellos said, leaning forward once more and ceasing his laughter. "There's no need to be so tense. After all, it's not as though your feelings are unrequited."

Filia took a startled step backwards. "What are you—"

"That's right, Filia," Xellos said, getting up and subjecting her to the full intensity of his stare. The reached out and clasped the still stunned dragon's hands and held them in his. Then, in a voice overflowing with tender, heartfelt passion he confessed: "_I hate you too_."

A shiver rattled around Filia's spine for a few. She drew back and hugged her arms around her body, her stance and expression radiating deepest horror.

"Is there a problem?" Xellos asked with innocent interest.

"Of course there's a problem!" Filia snapped, but her voice was rather panicky. "Your words are saying one thing but your tone is saying something _entirely and terrifyingly different!_"

"Oh?" Xellos pressed. "So… are you saying you _don't_ think that you and I were meant to hate each other—truly, madly, and deeply—for all eternity?"

Filia struggled for a moment, unsure how to respond to what was being said, or, more accurately, the _way_ it was being said.

"…Or at least one night?" Xellos hinted.

Something flat-lined in Filia's expression. The fists hanging from her side seemed to vibrate slightly. This wasn't a volcanic eruption, but it would've been a good reason to start evacuating villages.

"Filia?" Xellos tried.

Filia drew in a breath as though preparing to go underwater for an unforeseeably long period of time. When she finished, she let out a ringing shout of: "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU DISGUSTING WEIRDO!" before running blindly off.

"Ah," Xellos said at her retreating back, his tone somewhat deflated, "_now_ you're repulsed."

Xellos watched her race off to the fountain she'd been camped out at before. She reached into the shallows and scooped out a handful of coins before flinging them back into the depths and adopting a prayerful gesture. Moves like that are generally frowned upon by whatever deities rule wishing fountains—but no doubt she felt her emergency wish justified the breach. He wondered if he should do something. He realized that he may have fumbled what had started out as promising by taking it too far.

He quickly decided not to worry about it. A little polarity shift wouldn't change anything in the long run. He consoled himself that it was only temporary.

And sure enough, she was already turning around, pumping her arms furiously at her sides as she stamped back over to no doubt give him a piece of her mind.

She'd given him so many pieces of her mind that he was confident he'd have the whole thing before too long.


	28. Herbal Remedy

**Author's Note: **Here's theme #38-which I SHOULD NOT have written today because I have so much to do preparing for finals, but... when Xellia calls, it's hard to resist.

* * *

**Herbal Remedy.**

Filia had to admit, Xellos wasn't the _worst_ person in the world to go grocery shopping with. Oh, he certainly wasn't as attentive a helper as Jillas or as willing to carry bags as Gravos, but at least he didn't double the grocery bill, which was more than she could say for Val and his growing-boy appetite. So with Jillas minding the store and Gravos taking Val to clarinet lessons, she could at least say it wasn't ungodly awful to have Xellos accompany her.

…Although not out loud.

"Try not to drop anything this time," she told him testily as they navigated through the crowded aisles of the outdoor market. "I'm sick of hearing 'Clean up in aisle 5!' everywhere we go."

"Accidents happen, Filia," he informed her sagely, readjusting his grip on the paper bag he'd deigned to carry.

"Accidents happen suspiciously often around you!" she snapped back before turning to look at her shopping list. "Let's see… I think that's all we need for food, but…" She looked around. "Oh!"

She glided over to a table with shelves behind it in the far corner of the bazaar. Several glass containers filled with seeds and dried leaves and stalks lined it, each with a tiny handwritten label. An elderly woman behind the counter nodded to Filia before turning back to her wares.

"My stock is pretty much gone and with cold and flu season just around the corner," Filia explained, picking up a plastic bag and looking around at the selection, "well, you just can't be too careful."

Xellos put down the bag he was carrying and gingerly observed the description on one of the herbs. "Truly," he said, "sage is the miracle drug of our generation."

"Don't make fun," Filia chided. "It's amazing what you can do with herbs. Caraway seeds, for example," she said, taking a scoop and ladling some of the seeds into the plastic bag, "can cure snake bites, bring down fevers, and ease sensitive stomachs."

"And they're delicious on rye bread," Xellos finished.

Filia closed the bag of caraway seeds, annoyed, but not about to deny a basic fact. "That too," she said, picking up a prepackaged bag of reddish leaves and glancing at the label. "You have to know what you're doing with herbs," she commented, almost to herself. "It takes understanding and finesse; otherwise the cure can be worse than the disease."

"Then I await the inevitable trip to the local clinic to get your stomach pumped," Xellos commented.

Before Filia could respond harshly, Xellos pointed to something on one of the shelves that had caught his eye. "Do you need one of those?"

"One of what?" Filia asked, teeth gnashed together as she looked to see what he was pointing at.

"You know," Xellos said, "that mushroom that looks strangely like a—"

She slapped his hand away and let out a shriek before he could finish his sentence. "_I don't need an aphrodisiac!_" she whisper-screeched at him, scandalized.

"Ah, so you have the opposite problem, then?" Xellos concluded knowingly. "Then perhaps you should try this?" he asked, pointing to a thin green stalk with tiny white blossoms growing in bunches at the top. "The sign says it's good for repressing sexual desire."

"Would you _please_ keep your voice down?" Filia demanded, as the old woman working behind the table gave the two of them an odd look. Filia smoothed back her frizzing-from-frustration hair, and nodded to the plant Xellos had indicated. "That's cowbane," she said haughtily. "They used to grow it around the temple."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least," Xellos commented. "Does it work?"

Filia opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated. Finally she said, "Technically, yes. It's a very dangerous poison."

"Oh, I see. So it solves the problem permanently," he said with a smile.

He walked along the edge of the table, looking at the assortment of plants. "Come to think of it," he said, "a lot of these are poisons. Oh, several are harmless, but a large portion are downright lethal."

He stopped at one particular plant—a leafy one with ominous black berries. "Belladonna," he read.

Filia looked uneasily over his shoulder at the plant. "I know some people use it for a pain killer, but it's so temperamental that it's just never seemed safe to me."

"Isn't this the same plant that makes witches fly?" Xellos asked off-handedly, not taking his eyes off the glass display where the plant sat.

Filia gave him a curious look. "Don't be silly," she said. "_Levitation_ makes witches fly."

Xellos gave a slight sigh. "That's not really what I meant."

"Well then you should say what you mean," Filia retorted grouchily.

"Deadly Nightshade, the devil's herb… Belladonna," Xellos read again. "Why does it not surprise me that a fatally poisonous herb has a name meaning 'beautiful woman.'"

Filia twitched. After being around Xellos this long she was developing an instinct for when he was insulting her. He liked to do so in clever ways with sly implications that he thought she wouldn't pick up on, but she was wise to him. Of course, this one put her in a bind. She couldn't respond to him calling her poisonous without acknowledgin that he'd called her beautiful.

In the end, she bit her lip and ignored the barb. "Devil's herb," she said, "that reminds me—I've got to pick up some devil's hairpins." She reached out to scoop a few blackened looking slender leaves into another baggy.

Xellos gave her a long look. "Filia," he said, "of all people, _I_ shouldn't be the one to have to tell you this, but plants with 'devil' in their name are usually poisonous. It's one of those handy tip-offs like 'bane' and 'deadly."

"I know _that_," Filia snapped. "For your information _everything_ is poisonous at a certain dose. But with the right know-how, plants that can kill in large doses can save lives in small doses. And the right dose is different for different people. Not everything with 'devil' in its name is as toxic as _you_," she added, because she needed some kind of revenge for the Belladonna comment—the insulting part as well as the purposefully confusing compliment part.

"I see," Xellos pondered. "So what's the ideal dose of me?"

Filia made a face. "Even small doses of you make me nauseous."

Xellos held onto his smile, but it had gone all crinkly and annoyed. "Oh?"

"And," Filia went on, a wicked thought striking her, "you remember what cowbane is supposed to do?"

The thin smile turned into a very definite frown. "That's uncalled for."

"The truth hurts," Filia jabbed back.

Xellos thought the lady doth protest too much. "Are you sure you haven't gotten that backwards? Like you'd need the cowbane after taking a dose of me? That seems much more likely to me."

Filia scowled. All the ways she could think of to take a dose of Xellos were… no. "You are _not_ an aphrodisiac."

"Then what am I?" Xellos pressed on. "What's my medical benefit?"

"You don't have one," Filia informed him. "You're noxious through and through."

"Oh, but I must have some kind of benefit—in the right quantity and to the right person. I think someone told me that even deadly poisons do. …What do I cure?"

Filia was flabbergasted, not just because she didn't want to be forced into an answer but because he… because he _always_… "Why do you always want to do this?" she demanded.

"Do what?" Xellos asked. "Talk about herbs? I think this is the first real conversation we've had about them."

"Not that," she said dismissively. "It's like you always want us too…" she trailed off, trying to think of how to describe it, "_similize_ each other or something!"

"Similize?" Xellos repeated as though he'd just picked up something disgusting like a used tissue or a made up word.

"Yes, similize!" Filia snapped, triumphant. "As in make a simile."

"Simile is a word," Xellos answered, "but I very much doubt that 'similize' is."

"I verbified it," Filia retorted. "It _is_ what you do anyway."

"What makes you think I want to be… 'similized?'" Xellos asked, a little derisively.

"You want me to compare you to an herb—that sounds pretty… similizey…ish," Filia finished lamely. "And this isn't even the first time," she pointed out, voice rising in strength once more. "We go to the zoo, you compare me to an iguana; I try to pick out what tea to have and somehow you turn the conversation into one entirely about you; we can't even look at a spiderweb without talking about what bug each of us would be!"

"The first one was more of a garden variety taunt than a simile," Xellos pointed out, but without gaining much traction.

Filia ignored him. "It's like… every conversation we have somehow gets overlaid with a discussion about… about… it's all just you and me! And I suppose it's sort of a nice poetic convention," she admitted, "but if we're going for poetry then isn't the subject usually… flowers, or moonlight, or summer days? Something more romantic like that?"

Filia nearly slapped her hand over her mouth. She should _not_ have said the R-word. It didn't matter that she'd… well, that she'd _noticed_. She did _not_ want to be the one to mention it first.

And ooooh he'd make her suffer for it. She could practically see his faux-innocent expression already, coupled with, 'Romantic? Are we supposed to have romantic conversations now, Filia? Do you imagine me writing a sonnet comparing you to the rebirth of spring? Do tell, Filia, do tell. I've always wondered what you write in your diary at night and I must say this has been very eye-opening. Are you quite sure you don't want that cowbane? Hmm?'

"Herbs aren't _un_romantic," he pointed out, completely failing to take the bastard-route. "Many of them are flowers, after all, and quite beautiful. The right herb can cleanse and heal, while the wrong one can bring swift death. As far as romantic subjects go, they seem ripe for comparison."

Filia stared for a minute, stunned not only at her escape but at the fact that he was taking this conversation seriously. "I… I suppose," she finally said. "But that still doesn't change the simile thing!" she said, regaining her footing and pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Why do you always insist on making me compare you to things?"

Xellos shrugged. "Why do you think?"

"Because…" she began, thinking carefully, "…because you like to be objectified?"

Xellos frowned. "Try again."

"Because…" she trailed off. It was like… maybe they _could_ say these things without the trappings of figurative language, but it would be… dangerous. It was a way of figuring each other out without the risk of plainly asking. It was their process, together, of finding out what they were to one another.

"I think I know," she said quietly.

He gave her a searching look but did not press her for an answer. "Good," he said. "So then can you tell me… what do I… no, what do _we_ cure each other of?"

Filia thought. It felt like there was so much to say, but so little that she could actually communicate. She took a deep breath and tried: "…Patience."

Xellos turned this over in his mind and then nodded slowly. "I agree," he said. "Usually patience is something I value, but… there are times when it can be an impediment to what really matters."

There was a long silence. Filia stared at the floor. Finally Xellos picked up the bags of groceries and herbs that they'd set down. "Let's go home, Filia," he said.

"…Right," Filia said. It was all so hard to pin-point things in conversations with Xellos. There was where she knew they were and where they pretended they were. There was such a big difference between the two that there was always the danger of a slip-up.

Xellos nodded to one of the items on the shelf. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to get that mushroom shaped like a—"

"No!" Filia exploded. "Stop asking!"

"Of course," Xellos said meaningfully. "Why would you need that when you have me?"

Filia grit her teeth. "We decided that you cure _patience_, remember?"

"Exactly," Xellos said, drawing up next to her and putting the hand that wasn't holding grocery bags against the small of her back. "So let's go home and really lose our patience with each other."

Filia let out an appalled sort of sound, but didn't move away from him. "You can't pull those kinds of comments on me and expect them to go over my head anymore," she informed him sourly. "I _know_ what you're implying."

"Perfect," Xellos said, "that's even better."

Filia grumbled slightly to herself as they strolled toward the exit of the bazaar so that they could pay for their groceries, take them home, put them away and then… alright, _maybe_ they'd be a little… impatient. Anyway, patience is all well and good, but at some point, she realized, it had just become the thing holding them back.

And maybe… maybe he wouldn't make such a terrible remedy after all.

Filia couldn't suppress a smile. "I'm kind of disappointed in you, you know," she said.

He turned to her with a puzzled look. "Why?"

She jabbed at his shoulder with her finger. "Because you didn't make a 'take one and call me in the morning' joke."


	29. Chaos: Creator and Destroyer

**Author's Note: **Here's theme #79. I hope you like Xellos applying wax to philosophy!

* * *

**Chaos: Creator and Destroyer.**

Xellos reflected, as he watched Filia scrubbing away at a stack of dishes and pointedly turned away every time she whipped around to glare at him, that between them, the humans and the dragons had come up with many colorful nicknames for the monster race. Let's see… there was 'the enemies of all who live,' 'the demon race,' 'creatures from the darkest void,' 'scum' (one of Filia's favorites) and… yes, 'the agents of chaos.' Xellos was considering that last one because, though fair enough, it wasn't nearly as straightforward as it sounded.

'Chaos' had multiple definitions—multiple _contradictory_ definitions that somehow managed to be true all at once.

Discord was an easy one, he supposed. Easy enough to define and easy enough to appreciate, at least at first. It was like… that stack of plates on the counter that Filia was chipping away at. So neatly placed one on top of the other—so organized. But what a _clatter_ they would make if they fell, if they cracked. Certainly humans, perhaps even dragons could understand that dire impulse to make them topple. Just because destruction was to them a vice and to the monsters a virtue, did not mean there wasn't some universality to the urge.

But discord wasn't always destructive—that's where it got tricky. Chaos was a harbinger of birth as well as death. Political tumult, construction, refinement, drama… discord is always lively. It is… creative.

There was a definite distinction, Xellos knew, when it came to destruction. It was one thing to want to send the dishes falling to the ground, one thing to enjoy the crash, one thing to delight in the shattered pieces that would take forever to glue back together—but it was another thing entirely to annihilate the whole stack, leaving not so much as a crumb of debris, so that it was almost as if it had never existed in the first place.

But that was the _goal_. To return everything to chaos… well, _that_ brought in another definition of chaos. Depending on your perspective, _that_ chaos was either 'nothing' or 'raw everything.' It was the formless beginning of it all and it was…

…Disinteresting.

And it worried him that he thought that way, but there it was. The ultimate goal in all this disorder was to create… order. Of a kind at least. It would be clean, and crisp, and would have no pesky landmasses or flowing waters or life forms to make it scruffy looking. It would be plain. It would be peaceful. _Peaceful!_ The quiet nothing at the end of a war that should've been endless.

Endless. Was that really what he believed deep down? It was certainly not a thing that should be said aloud. He would say it was against his nature, if it weren't for the fact that the contradictions seemed to have been built into that too.

Valgaav, when he'd joined with Dark Star and Volpheed, had described it as a trap. Perhaps it was—each side lined up against the other, duking it out for the right to choose the fate of the game board—Protect the King, check, check and mate (though perhaps, he realized, he should've been using a checkers metaphor since he doubted the dragons had the patience for chess). One game, winner take all; no mulligans, no chance for a truce and no way out of it.

But it wasn't as simple as that. They were individuals, not ideals. Take the dragons, for example, and their desperate effort for peace and goodwill—which for some reason involved a great deal of war and badwill. Their eyes were fixed firmly on the bottom line and anything that threatened it must be… ah, _destroyed_. They were hypocrites. He'd delighted in this fact, a thought which now etched a self-conscious frown on his face. 'Hypocrisy' is a very dangerous word to throw around. It's like a boomerang.

And someday… some dreadful day, Filia would be the one to figure that out about him; because symmetry is a fearsome thing.

Ah, yes, Filia and chaos. He couldn't help but notice that, as her hunched shoulders conveyed her annoyance with him without her even needing to turn around. Now, by reputation, Lina Inverse was often labeled as the personification of chaos, but in Xellos's mind at least, Filia gave her a run for her money. True, Lina Inverse was wrathful and destructive in a useful and even admirable way, but she was also straightforward. She made no bones about her vindictiveness. She was not, as Filia was, a walking, talking contradiction. She was not _surprising_ as Filia was.

Filia did not merely have a temper, she had all the other emotions in the set, and she felt them with such a magnificent intensity. She wasn't false—she truly did believe in kindness, charity and righteousness, even to the point where she'd break with the crowd if she thought it was wrong. Yet, that did not mean that she wasn't petty, self-deceptive, and instinctively violent.

It had surprised him, when he first met her. And part of that, he had to admit was because she was female. Now, Xellos's own interactions and… he sought around for the right word and decided that 'upbringing' would have to do, provided him ample proof that there was no gender disparity in terms of bravery and viciousness. But… dragon women were another story.

The servants of the gods did not have many natural advantages against his kind, but one of them _was_ numbers and it was a fact that he knew that the dragons were very well aware of too. They overwhelmed and ambushed wherever they could—they relied on armies, not generals. And yes, he knew very well that this tactic did not always pan out for them, but their mortal ability to replenish their lost numbers without diminishing their own power was a very definite advantage. Right now, with the loss of all but one of the Fire Dragon King's servants, the situation was dire for the dragons… but in a few hundred years that population breach would easily be healed. It was a thought that should've annoyed him, but it didn't.

Because reproduction was so important to the dragon race's level of strength, that also meant that women were very important. And Xellos was sure the male elders that made up the ruling class were horrified that someday the female dragons (whose hierarchy ran parallel to the male one, but never made it even close to the top) would figure that out.

So there were comportment books, there were classes, there was modesty, and there were 'ways in which ladies behaved.' It must have been quite a shock for the dragons when their race churned out Filia—aggressive, distractibly attractive, and with a killer right hook. You couldn't _blame_ anything on her; it wasn't that she'd done wrong; it was just that the valkyrie played no part in their gender expectations.

He smiled. She must've made people very nervous growing up.

Was that what drew him to her? The fact that he didn't need to knock down the stack of plates? That if he waited long enough she'd throw them at him and break them herself? Or was it just that her contradictions were uncomfortably familiar?

Her frenzied spirit mocked his organized mind. Who was who here?

All he knew, as she turned to him once more in a huff and tossed a dishrag in his face, was that he was in the world destroying business. And it was a business he had every intention of _staying_ in. But… that was kind of the point, wasn't it? It was a one shot deal. He couldn't keep doing this if there was nothing else to do. It… was nothing more than that.

"Don't just stand around watching me work," Filia barked at him, soap suds clinging furiously to her gloved hands. "If you're going to hang around then you might as well dry."

"I suppose I might as well," he said, approaching the sink, "after all, with your work ethic, I'm sure that by yourself within the next couple of minutes you'd be saying that you're just going to 'leave things to soak,' and _then_ you wouldn't have anything to eat off of." It was untrue. Filia's work ethic was quite good. But an exchange of gunfire was always necessary in these proceedings.

"Are you calling me lazy?" she demanded, her arm leaning against his from shoulder to elbow.

"Not at this very moment, I'm not," he answered, taking the clean plate she'd passed him and drying it.

Of course, Filia must've seen the writing on the wall (fractured porcelain on the floor?) when she included him in this task. Perhaps, he thought, she'd grown enamored with the idea of having something to yell at him about.

_But…_ he decided, as he placed the dried dish on the rack where it could air dry further, _there's really no need to break all of the dishes._ _One should make my statement without much fuss—and it could be glued together again to be broken later, in any case. No need to break all the dishes today. They'll be there tomorrow._

And perhaps fate would demand an answer to this game someday—but who could say how long it could be held off?


	30. Stop, Look, and Listen

**Author's Note: **An early Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of you! Here's theme #39 (which... is in no way holiday related. Sorry!)

* * *

**Stop, Look & Listen.**

Xellos had been trying unsuccessfully for the last several hours to get Filia to look at him.

Ah, but putting it that way made it sound rather unfairly pathetic. The current state of affairs, with his outwardly nonchalant efforts to turn her gaze his way being thwarted by her insistence on looking at such things as tree bark, dirt, and animal dung (elements that she would most likely insist were much more worthy of her attention than he was), was not the way this whole thing had started. No… this campaign had begun not with failure, but with unexpected success.

That morning had run much like any other morning—with a lengthy breakfast served at the inn they'd stayed at. Lina had been complaining about her latest efforts to destroy her sleep cycle by staying up all night looking through as much Outer World literature as she could find concerning magical items, Zelgadis, who had been doing just as much research, complained about how much Lina was complaining, Amelia nearly nodded off into her pancakes, and Gourry, eyes on the prize as always, was taking advantage of the others' distraction to steal the last of the sausages.

Xellos had turned away from the others for a sip of tea, and just as a result of their seat configuration, that meant glancing at Filia… who hastily turned her gaze down to her bowl of oatmeal. She twiddled her spoon around self-consciously in the cereal, but did not seem to have any intention of eating it.

Xellos observed her fixedly staring at her oatmeal for a moment before finally taking his sip of tea. _Either_, he thought, _there is something very, very interesting buried in that oatmeal or Filia was just looking at me and turned away to avoid me seeing her do so._

And that was… well, a pleasing little thought. It was easy to imagine that prickly dragon setting her gaze on him and getting lost in thought—the rumblings of aggression going off in her head and her twisting silently to herself about the probably indignity of having to sit down to a meal with a monster—and not just any monster either. She'd probably been thinking words that a priestess shouldn't know, but that she just couldn't help thinking around him.

Oh yes, ever since he'd rejoined Miss Lina's group, Filia had been such an interesting new addition. Yet, it was hard for him to say at this early stage whether it was for better or for worse. …Actually, it was _easy_ to say, it was only that his opinion changed on the matter very frequently. Filia was an emotional tinderbox, easy to stir up, and, in the right hands, was a loaded weapon. She certainly added to the drama of the group, which was something to be valued, and her hatred of him made her extremely easy to goad and manipulate. Which was all for the good.

…Except that somehow it wasn't. Goading her was fun, but it wasn't a secure endeavor. Her choked-up fury often coalesced into some very nasty retaliation. On the one hand, he knew it shouldn't bother him. So a little golden dragon calls him a few names that are no more creative or terrible than any schoolyard taunt? Why should that matter?

…It mattered because… because she had no _respect_. It was one thing to hate him, but she was supposed to play _nice_ with the big, bad monster. She didn't. And that, paired with her holier-than-thou hypocrisy, made her particularly obnoxious. After all, it's one thing to be called despicable, but it's quite another thing to be called _worthless_.

And that was why this little incident of drawing her attention was particularly satisfying. No matter what she said, she visited far too much interest upon him to truly believe all that 'trash' stuff she spouted. Nobody finds trash that fascinating.

_Fascinating… hmm…_ He had to admit that he liked that.

And what was even better than her stare was its furtive nature. As soon as she'd been caught looking at him, she'd turned away. She hadn't continued to glare at him determinedly, as though her look of menace was some kind of punishment—no. She'd looked awkwardly away, a cloud of embarrassment swirling around her.

She was ashamed that she'd been looking at him, which meant that she felt that she'd been doing something wrong. Which made him wonder (and not for the first time) just what sort of thoughts were sleeting across that dragon's brain.

And he hadn't even meant to attract this attention. His mind had been completely on other things before he'd discovered her… _ogling? Was that what that was?_ If so, that was too hilarious for words. More likely it was the result of a hate-fueled diatribe that had driven her to distraction, but nevertheless…

…he wondered if he could do it again—draw her gaze once more. He didn't think it would be that hard. Clearly he had that effect on her without even doing anything—it was just a matter of fact. So he decided, as a little experiment for the day, to try to repeat this feat.

…Unfortunately, he hadn't yet been able to.

He'd walked next to her all along the road they were traveling, but she either kept her nose in the air or focused on the aforementioned components of the woodland scenery. His features creased as he tried to think of how one might go about getting a girl's attention. It was not something he usually had to think about.

Of course, he _could've_ tapped her on the shoulder or made a comment about the weather—perhaps even jump in front of her line of sight. But he felt in a purist sense that this would constitute cheating. What he was after was to pull her toward him without action, without words, but with nothing more than himself and his thoughts.

…None of _that,_ however, was working very well, and it was frustrating not to know why. It _should've_. She had to hear her name, loudly and repeatedly, in his thoughts as clear as a voice calling out to her. _Filia, Filia, Filia… why don't you turn at the mere thought of your name?_

And even if she couldn't sense his thoughts focused on her, she should've certainly been able to feel his eyes skittering across her. She _had_ to know! She must've been trying to ignore it, just to spite him. Yes, that was the only explanation.

_Turn around, Filia. Turn and look like you did before—fury mixed with horrified magnetism, the desire to dwell on that same feeling over and over and over again, all etched in those too-dark blue eyes and radiating outward in lines across your young forehead and in the tightness of your jaw. Run me over in your mind once more with that same old inner monologue—unfocused ramblings that decry, denounce, demonize, dissect, deprecate, and… admire. Make snap judgments, obsess over the unimportant, and teeter on the edge, as you tend to do, of profound discovery without ever realizing it._

_ Turn… _

_…you know, just for the sake of this little experiment of mine if nothing else._

But she didn't turn. She stretched out her hands in front of her and chose to look at them instead.

* * *

It was dinnertime and Xellos had to admit that the ultimate fate of operation Get-Filia-to-Look-at-Me was looking grim. He blamed Filia's obstinacy—perhaps her embarrassment at being caught in the act kept her from making the same slip-up again, no matter how much he ramped up the mental warfare to get her attention. How very like her to be so annoyingly stubborn just when things were getting interesting.

After all, she was _across_ from him now and still managing to avoid looking at him. He'd been willing to accept her fiery glare, but the cold shoulder was a tactic from her that really chafed. He didn't think it was one that she had any right to.

But it was at the point that he was about to cast his experiment as a failure (though not without heavy blame on his subject) when things changed. Both she and he reached for the last of the biscotti in the basket on the table at the exact same moment. Their gazes met and so did their fingers as they each grabbed the oblong cookie.

They both froze in the gesture—eyes locked on each other and in the gesture of clasping the little tea cookie. After a few moments, Filia withdrew her purchase on the biscotto and crossed her arms, making a mildly annoyed sound as she turned away.

Xellos, encouraged by this re-establishment of contact, held up the cookie to her. "Did you want this?" he asked, not so much as an offer, but a taunt.

And that's when she turned back to look at him purposefully. "I don't eat food that's been in _garbage_," she informed him.

His lips pursed. He knew they did because he felt them do so, even though he'd given no direction to his facial features to show such displeasure. "Is that a fact?" he said, as lightly as he could.

But even in the face of her comment there was cause to rejoice. The endeavor hadn't failed. She had finally acquiesced and looked at him again, with… yes, he could see it all over her face. That raging inner-monologue barely bitten back, that dripping acidity in her heart, and, yes, even that awkward, not fully understood sense of guilt and confusion behind it all. Mission accomplished.

He sat back confidently and dipped his cookie into his tea before taking a bite. Yes, it had taken longer than he'd initially thought it would, but he'd proven today that he could draw Filia's gaze. Sometimes it had to be catalyzed, but oftentimes it didn't and happened entirely without his intervention. Getting her to look at him was something he was more than qualified to do.

A choking hazard of a thought occurred to him as he took a swig from his burning hot tea; that if he was looking for someone with a talent for getting someone else to look at them, then he had only to look at the dragon girl across from him, drinking her tea haughtily like the Queen of the Goddamn Biscotti-less, who had proven herself infinitely more qualified than him.

…And it wasn't as thought it would be any trouble to look at her again, anyway, he realized sourly. After all, he'd been staring at her all day.


	31. Unintentional Sexual Harassment

**Unintentional Sexual Harassment.**

Unusual sights often go unappreciated simply because spectators don't understand what it is that they're seeing. It was in this way that a handful of buzzed pub patron's completely failed to appreciate the oddity of a monster and a dragon sitting at the bar and drinking together. All they saw through their booze-glazed haze was a young man and woman who looked as though they'd rather be anywhere else and in any other company.

And it was true that neither Xellos nor Filia would've put themselves in this situation of their own volition. But earlier that day as they were walking through town they'd been having a… let's call it a discussion… a debate… a comparative exercise to demonstrate which of their races was best. The word 'jerkface' had been thrown around, yes, but there's no reason for that to take anything away from the solemnity of the proceedings.

Lina hadn't appreciated that in the least. She'd turned to them, raked her hands through her hair frantically as though she'd been nursing a headache all day and shouted: "That's IT! I've had enough of you two!"

She put her hands on her hips and glared at them. "Whatever problems you two have with each other just get over them, or at least _shut up_ about them!"

They both opened their mouths—shutting up was probably not their intention.

"I don't even want to hear it!" Lina commanded. She put her hand to her forehead for a moment, either in great contemplation or great pain. Finally she swept her hand out and pointed toward a local tavern. "Until you're willing to at least _pretend_ to get along, I don't want to see _or hear_ either of you. So just drink it out, talk it out, hug it out or duke it out—_whatever_. Just as long as you work it out!"

So they'd been banished—expelled from their own party. And though neither one was willing to work on any reconciliation, there was one thing that they could both agree on.

"Miss Lina is so mean," Filia sulked.

Xellos set his drink down, letting the ice clink as it settled. "She is being rather bossy, even for her," he was forced to agree. "What's she going to demand next? That Mister Gourry stop asking obvious questions? That Mister Zelgadis stop being sarcastic? That Miss Amelia stop using the word 'justice?'"

Filia had her hands neatly folded in her lap—a pillar of decency in the dank, beer-scented room. "…That would never happen."

Xellos raised an eyebrow at her. "Is it more likely for us to get along?"

She sniffed haughtily. "Not at all."

"Of course, _I've_ done nothing wrong even in the face of your constant harassment," Xellos said sanctimoniously. "I've been perfectly polite."

"Polite?" Filia repeated incredulously. "Is that what you call it?"

"That's exactly what I call it. You're the one who's always shouting. You'll notice I _keep_ my temper," he said in a purposefully soft and even voice. This was slightly undone by his almost inaudible mumbling of: "…For the most part."

"You provoke me to shout at you with your wickedness!" she shot back. "And anyway, insults are insults no matter what volume they're delivered at or what fancy language you use. Don't pretend that _that's_ civil." She took a triumphant swig of her drink and set the empty glass on the table.

Xellos's eyes followed her movement. Either because he had no counter-argument or because he was legitimately curious, he changed the subject. "Should you even be drinking that? I thought alcohol was a mocker."

"_You're_ a mocker," she muttered darkly as the bartender set two more glasses next to their growing collection. "Anyway, it's only human-grade stuff. It's weak."

"True," Xellos said, taking a steady drink. "If Miss Lina was expecting the alcohol to lubricate some kind of ceasefire then she didn't think this through. It doesn't really affect either of us." He paused, glass still in hand. "Though if this goes on for long enough it'll end up affecting you."

"That's because _I'm_ flesh a blood," Filia responded with what Xellos considered to be a perverse sort of pride in her own mortality.

"How nice for you," Xellos responded coldly in what he knew was not going to be his best comeback of the evening.

"Prick me and I bleed," was Filia's bizarre brag as she gestured dramatically with her shot glass.

"I'm going to assume that's not an invitation," Xellos muttered. "Anyway, I could say the same thing if I had enough advanced notice. It's just not worth the trouble for someone like me. …It's not as though bleeding takes any particular talent," he added in a snappish tone.

She blinked at him and in that odd speech felt the strange sense of a completely alien perspective. What was it like to have… options? To treat elements of appearance and form that mortals take for granted as permanent as though they were… just clothing. A disguise.

Apropos to nothing she turned her gaze fixedly to the wood grain of the bar. She fiddled with her drink awkwardly, letting the very small amount of remaining alcohol slosh in a circular tide. She gave him a brief sidelong glance before looking straight back at the tabletop.

"Umm… Xellos?"

"Yes?" he asked, watching her change in behavior with interest.

She seemed to have trouble knowing where to start. "Do you… at the Temple of the Fire Dragon King they told us that… that when monsters materialize in this world that their clothes are part of their bodies." Red pigment was building up in her cheeks—probably that famous blood she was so proud of. "Do you have… is that true?"

Xellos sat back and surveyed her for a minute—whether it was to heighten her sense of embarrassment or because he was actually thinking was hard to say, and there's no reason that both can't be true. "Technically speaking, yes, it is true," he answered. "But," he said, tugging at the fingertips of one white glove until he pulled it off completely and pressed it into one of her hands—still neatly resting in her lap, "once I remove them, they're just clothes," he said, holding out a perfectly normal looking hand with perfectly normal, if unrealistically clean, fingernails.

She stared at the hand in front of her, and then back down at the glove as though not sure what to do with it. "…Oh," she finally said.

She set the glove down gingerly on the table. Then she took a desperate gulp of the precious last drops of alcohol in her glass, set it down, and gestured to the bartender to bring another. The bartender, working at the other end of the bar, sighed and brought two more glasses out, rather suspicious of his endlessly-thirsty-but-surprisingly-still-upright guests, but not paying them much mind.

Xellos brought the new glass almost up to his lips with his ungloved hand—not _really_ flesh and blood, but a damn good imitation. He watched as Filia took a drink.

"So…" he said, looking her up and down, "what have you got under there?"

She sprayed the contents of her mouth across the bar and began choking wildly. "You—!" she screeched furiously between coughs.

He smirked. "Well wasn't that exactly what you were asking me, Miss Flesh-And-Blood?"

"That's not at all what I meant, you creep! Stop twisting my words!" she yelled, recoiling toward the far end of her barstool.

"Oh, I don't think I'm twisting anything," he countered smugly. "You might as well have said 'show me some skin!'"

She made a face at him that was so disgusted that the bartender was inclined to check if any of his ingredients had expired. "I don't want to see your stupid skin!" she declared, pushing his glove closer to him as though it was a molted snake skin. "I just…" she began to crumple slightly, "…wondered if it was there, that's all."

"Did you?" he pressed, eyebrows arched.

"Yes! It was… it was all out of intellectual curiosity and nothing more!" she insisted.

"I'll buy the 'curiosity' part," he allowed, "but that curiosity of yours isn't the least bit intellectual."

"Oh please!" Filia scoffed. "As if I'd show interest in you in any other way."

"I wasn't talking about _any_ other way," he answered, taking an excessively dainty sip of his drink, "I meant one _specific_ way."

She turned her gaze to her drink in an attitude that she hoped made it quite clear that she'd rather look at just about anything but him. "I could never be _that_ drunk!" she declared. Nevertheless she paused just before bringing the drink to her lips, and slowly set it back down on the counter. …Better safe than sorry.

The action was not lost on Xellos. "I'm glad to hear that you have at least some self-control," he said, smiling smugly. "At least now I know that when you've had a few drinks you tend to make cheeky comments."

"My comments were not cheeky!" she exploded. "Who even uses that word anyway?" she demanded, more of the world in general than of Xellos.

"You seemed very interested in finding out about the body beneath these clothes," Xellos said resting a hand on his chest. "That's a rather cheeky thing for a Dragon priestess to ask."

"I didn't mean it like that," Filia answered sourly. "I only asked because I figured you had to be made up of nothing but trash!"

"Oh-ho, really?" Xellos sputtered, eyebrows knocking together. "Well I suppose you could've been _cheekier_ if you were going to ask questions along that line," he pondered, repeating the hated word on purpose.

"What do you mean?" she growled.

"Well…" he began hesitantly, as though loath to speak aloud such indelicate sentiments, "I'm sure when your temple was teaching you everything they thought you needed to know about monsters they also told you that higher level ones, such as myself, can modify our forms to look however we like."

"I know that," Filia retorted. "And all that goes to show is that you have terrible taste. Cheeky enough for you?"

"Since you're well aware," Xellos continued, ignoring her comment, "did you stop to consider anything related to that while you were pondering the nature of my body under my clothes?"

"I don't know what you're—" she froze mid-speech and turned her eyes deliberately away from him. "No! No, no, no! I wasn't thinking about _that_ at all, you depraved weirdo!"

"Ah, but I think I detect the sound of some gears turning," he said, holding a hand to his ear. "How could you know what I was talking about if you _weren't_ thinking about it?" He paused and then added, "…you depraved weirdo."

Filia slammed her fists down on the counter. "I am _not_ depraved! The only reason I'm thinking about it at all is because you put it in my head!" And try as she might, she couldn't _un_think it.

"Oh, so you _are_ thinking it?" Xellos confirmed, beaming delightedly. "Why Filia, I'd blush if I only had a circulatory system." He gave a theatrical shrug. "But I'm sure you'll agree that artifice has its disadvantages as well as its… benefits."

"I'm sure I will _not!_"

"Hey," a voice said from behind them.

They both turned—Filia from her near descent into a tantrum and Xellos from his gloating—to see Zelgadis and Amelia approaching the bar.

"Miss Lina's gotten over her headache," Amelia announced, dispelling any notion that she and he might've been banished from the group as well. "She says you two can come back if you'll stop the arguing."

"So?" Zelgadis said, looking annoyed that he was playing errand-boy. "Are you willing to at least try to get along?"

"Not if Filia keeps sexually harassing me," Xellos answered.

Amelia and Zelgadis both looked startled initially, but Zelgadis was quick to move to a deadpan expression.

"He's lying! I'm not doing that at all!" Filia shouted. She pointed at him furiously. "He's the one who's sexually harassing _me_ by pretending that I'm sexually harassing him!"

Amelia and Zelgadis exchanged a look with Xellos over Filia's shoulder. Xellos mouthed, "Do you see what I'm dealing with here?"

"Um… Miss Filia," Amelia tried, "that doesn't make any sense."

"I don't think accusing someone of sexual harassment counts as sexual harassment," Zelgadis said coolly.

"It is the way he does it!" Filia spat. "_Everything_ is the way he does it! Look!" she said, pointing frantically at him. "Look at that sleazy leer and tell me that's not sexual harassment!"

"This is just how I smile," Xellos said, sounding, for the first time in the conversation like his defense was sincere.

"It is kind of unpleasant…" Amelia was forced to admit. "But look, can't we just compromise on this?"

"Just how are they supposed to do that?" Zelgadis asked.

"Well…" Amelia trailed off. "I guess they could just agree that they were both accidentally sexually harassing each other."

"I'll agree to no such thing!" Filia declared. "There was nothing wrong with what I said."

"What did you say anyway?" Zelgadis asked, not entire sure he wanted to know.

"She asked about my—" Xellos piped up.

"I did not!" Filia cut him off.

"Look," Zelgadis said, cutting in before Xellos could reply, "aside from Xellos's creepy looks which _no one_ likes, all of this supposed sexual harassment—whether it was unintentional, imagined, or on purpose—was verbal, right?"

"Right," Filia answered, crossing her arms and glaring over at Xellos.

"Yes," Xellos agreed, rather annoyed at the way his facial features were being received—he'd been going for charming.

"Then I think I have a solution that'll put all this to a stop," Zelgadis said gravely.

There was a moment of silence as they waited for his answer.

Zelgadis shook his head at them. "Just… stop talking to each other. That's all you have to do."

The monster and the dragon exchanged a long look, and then slowly turned back to the man with the plan in front of them.

"What kind of stupid idea is that?" Filia demanded.

Zelgadis sighed and turned away from them. "C'mon Amelia," he said, walking toward the exit, "let's go find Lina and tell her that she can either have the both of them in her party or she can have blissful silence, but she can't have both."


	32. Burn

**A/N: **Here's theme #20.

* * *

**Burn.**

Amelia clamped one hand over her mouth and nose to stifled a cough. The only air available for breathing tasted like soot and left her lungs dissatisfied and hungry. Her eyes ached from the filth that permeated the atmosphere, and even if she hadn't closed them as a ward against irritants, she still wouldn't have been able to see. It was dark all around here—the kind of darkness that no lighting spell could illuminate. The physical darkness of the smoke pressed in on all sides—hot and oppressive. She'd lost track of where she was. They'd started on the third level, but the floor had given way when the fire started and sent them crashing down. Had they fallen all the way down to the first floor? Was the exit close? Or had they simply fallen down one floor and would they still have to find a staircase before they could escape? …Would they have enough breathable air left to make it that far?

She shook her head and stopped her dizzy mind from panicking. She didn't know where she was or how to get out, but she just had to trust in herself and in the person in front of her whose shoulder her other hand was holding onto to guide her out.

The figure in front of her reached a doorway and pushed—once, twice, three times—before the wood finally gave way and the two of them were plunged into the sunlight.

Amelia took a desperate breath of the fresh air. "For a minute there I thought we were done for," she said, coughing.

"Yeah…" Zelgadis said noncommittally, looking around.

Amelia caught her breath and then followed his gaze around the outside of the house. "Ooooh, where is everyone?" she moaned worriedly.

"We got a head start on them because the floor collapsed," Zelgadis deduced, staring at the burning old house—a place he'd just escaped that he was now having to consider going back into. He took a step back toward the door. "I'd better—" he began.

He was cut off by the shattering of glass as a blade of light was plunged through a downstairs window. Lina stepped out over the sill with Gourry following, and helping her to avoid the broken glass.

"Phew! We made it!" Lina exclaimed, muffled because she'd pulled her cape over her mouth.

"They're alright!" Amelia cried out, relief all over her face—but that relief was short-lived. "But where's Miss Filia?"

"Wasn't she with the two of you?" Zelgadis asked, tensed.

Lina looked wildly over the window they'd just past through, awaiting the appearance of a priestess. "She was right behind us at the start…" she trailed off. "Gourry!" She turned to him. "You saw her come after us, right?"

"She did at the beginning," Gourry said with a worried frown. "But it was pitch black in there… you don't think she could've—?"

At that moment there was a horrible crash. The entire third floor of the old house sunk in onto the second. The second was holding, but it didn't seem too strong. Flames jetted from every break in the wood and smoke flowed out of it like a liquid.

"We have to go back in there!" Lina declared, wide-eyed. "We'll use a wind barrier for protection," she decided, thinking on her feet, "with a layer of ice spells to keep the flames from breaking it." She turned to the rest of them. "Zel, Amelia—can you handle the ice spells?"

Amelia said, "Right!" as Zelgadis nodded.

Gourry stepped forward with his sword drawn. "There's a lot of mess in there—you'll need me to clear the way."

"No, Gourry," Lina said hurriedly. "You can't clear debris from inside the barrier and you won't last outside it. Stay here!"

"But—"

"Don't argue," Lina said, lowering her head seriously as she began building up energy for the spell. "We haven't got a second to spare."

There was an explosion and the second floor fell in.

"Miss Filia!" Amelia cried out, but before they could finish their magical barrier or dart inside the stifling darkness of what was left of the house again, there was movement out of the corner of their eyes.

Flickering into existence to their left, and a safe distance away from the collapsing building, was the member of their traveling party that no one had felt the need to worry about when the fire broke out—Xellos. Hoisted in his arms was Filia—soot blackened, bruised, and bleeding.

"Filia!" Lina yelled, leading the charge as they all raced over to Xellos, who was thankfully wearing an at least comparatively serious expression to his normally smiley face.

"Is she okay?" Gourry asked, as Xellos released Filia's unconscious form to Lina and Amelia, who set her on the ground and surveyed her worriedly.

She was breathing, but her eyes were closed. She was covered in dirt and cuts and bruises and splinters, as though something heavy had fallen on her. That was probably the cause of her unconsciousness, Amelia decided. In the collapse something had fallen on top of her and either knocked her out or pinned her down until she passed out from lack of oxygen. She could imagine some timbers from the ceiling crashing down in a pile on top of her so heavy that no normal human being could lift them… She risked a sideways glance at Xellos before turning back to Filia.

What was worse than the bruises or the cuts or the smoke inhalation was the burn. Amelia had mistaken it for a bloody gash when she'd seen her from a distance, but no—her side and all along her right arm was a ghastly red and white—blistering, moist and unspeakably vulnerable-looking. Amelia had often done her duty as a shrine maiden—helping to heal the sick and injured—and she knew very well that burns were worse than any wound. A simple cut would leave a slice of skin decimated—a breach that could be bound up once more and sealed. But burns could leave entire swaths of skin dead or dying.

"She'll be fine," Lina assessed quickly, in answer to Gourry's question that seemed to have been asked a millennium ago, before they'd seen the damage. "You got her in time." She gave Xellos a nod. In a very quiet voice she added to Amelia, "Use Resurrect."

Amelia nodded and began chanting. It was nerve-wracking work—the worry over Filia would've made it so no matter what, but there was something else that set her nerves on edge. She was being watched—closely and critically. She didn't have to see the eyes to know that they were on her.

Lina noticed it to. Her gaze titled behind them to where Xellos stood. But she didn't comment on it as she dumped healing magic into Filia.

"Why didn't she just follow us out?" Gourry asked, frowning at Filia's prone form. "I thought she was right behind me when we all decided to get out."

Xellos made a gesture with something that Amelia, turned away from him, could only see out of the corner of her eye, but said nothing. Apparently noticing his wordless hush, he chimed in a moment later with an unconvincingly breezy, "I believe she went back for this."

"The book?" Zelgadis said, looking up from the healing process where he'd been poised to see if his less skilled hand at healing magic was needed.

_The book_, Amelia thought as she let the white magic flow into Filia. Yes… that made sense. After all, the book had been the whole reason they'd gone into that house—the whole reason Filia was traveling with them. They'd gone to meet the man who claimed he had the book about Ancient Dragons…

That book… the chance in would've given Filia to taste that lost to the ages culture that her people had extinguished… the chance to give her son even the tiniest trace of his people's way of life and beliefs… that had to be priceless.

Of course, the meeting hadn't turned out to be what it seemed when they first arranged it. The man who'd promised them the book had another agenda, one that Amelia couldn't grasp in any full detail at this point. The man had said something about revenge but… revenge against who? Miss Lina was always the most likely option… but it could've been meant for someone else… perhaps even Miss Filia, for whom the book seemed to be designed as bait.

They couldn't get the man—whoever he was—to tell them the whole story before he called some low-class demons to fight in his stead. There had been a struggle, but in the end it was clear that he was going to lose. And that's when they'd set the fires—a cowardly and cruel act that proved by itself that they were dealing with an amoral villain.

Villains… and proof of villainy. Amelia couldn't help but think that subject had gotten more and more complicated to the point that it was hard to manage. It had been easy when she was younger. Good guys wear white, make epic speeches and punish villains; Bad guys wear black and laugh evilly and tie people to contraptions that gradually lower them into vats of acid—simple. But real life seemed to be rife with exceptions—no one who traveled with Miss Lina's group could miss that. She'd had to adjust her expectations because, deep down, she knew that Miss Lina was basically good, even if she was occasionally greedy and not 100% moral.

Mister Zelgadis had been a tough one, because, while Miss Lina would occasionally take on the role of hero with all the flare and style and passion that Amelia had been taught to expect as a child, Mister Zelgadis seemed to actively avoid it. He'd been quick to shut her down whenever the subject of heroism came up—quick to say that, no, he _wasn't_ a hero of justice—to say that they should stay out of things that weren't their problem. But… she knew his intentions were good and despite his protestations whenever push came to shove he displayed more good, more heroism than she could've ever hoped for. She was coming to believe that part of the reason he shunned the 'hero' label was simply because he thought anti-heroes were cooler.

…Which, of course, Amelia knew was ridiculous. After all, _nothing_ was cooler than a hero.

She stared down at Filia—at her speedily mending burns. It was when Filia had joined their group that she'd really… noticed that she'd changed in her attitudes about good and evil. She saw how rigid Filia's definitions of the two were and thought _I've been there… haven't I?_ Filia had gone through a similar change. She must've known what it was like.

But still… she couldn't imagine what it was like for Filia. Her struggles in where to place Zelgadis on the justice spectrum paled in comparison to… Her eyes flicked in the direction behind her. …Well, at least anti-heroes were still definitely heroes.

Xellos on the other hand… no one was really sure what to do with Xellos. But Filia would probably have the best idea.

And he'd snatched her up from that building when they'd all lost track of her. What would've happened to her if he hadn't? It was enough to make a person think…

But no. That was being sentimental. She realized that when she looked up into Zelgadis's eyes. He was looking over at Xellos with a sour and suspicious expression—more specifically he was looking at the book in Xellos's hands… the one Filia had risked her life to get. Was he just holding it for safe keeping or was that book the whole reason he'd been following them again?

It was impossible to know… and this had happened before. It was dangerous to read into Xellos's acts based only on their results. She'd made that mistake before. The things he did may have seemed one way but… his intention could've be something else entirely.

Amelia let the last of her white magic flow into Filia. It was a poor substitute for the revitalizing holy magic locked in Filia's unconscious mind, but yet there was something sacred about it. It was not the kind of magic for monsters. Xellos could rescue Filia, but he couldn't save her—that he had to entrust to them.

…If saving her was even what he'd been after. Perhaps it was just a bonus and the book was the real prize. Perhaps its knowledge held something that he and his kind needed to know or needed to keep from others.

But she couldn't believe that was the whole story. Amelia was sure. It was a convenient excuse and would've preserved a certain world-view—a categorization of good and evil. But it couldn't explain the force—the manic pressure of eyes boring through the back of her head. There was an edge there, a tension and an ultimatum. She didn't need to turn around to feel the intensity, the judgment of his gaze.

Filia's eyes fluttered open and the pressure ceased.


	33. Everything Dies

**A/N: **Sorry there's been a long break between updates. That's what I get for taking on multiple projects. Anyway, here's theme #90.

* * *

**Everything Dies.**

The box was small, cardboard and taped closed along the edges. The markered-on label insisted that it was originally meant to hold paintbrushes, but its purpose had changed. It was a poor casket, really, but it was the best Filia could do on short notice.

She lowered it into the hole she'd dug, deep enough that she hoped that no marauding coyote would make to rob the tiny tomb. She wiped her dirtied gloves against her skirt as she stood up on the parched grass of her backyard. The shovel was by her feet, but she didn't feel quite ready to stitch the ground up.

"Val didn't want to be here for this?" the lone figure next to her asked.

Filia dabbed the sweat from her brow and looked sideways at her fellow "mourner"; if he could even be called that. "No," she said. "He's pretty broken up about it. This is his first real experience with death."

"In this lifetime," Xellos pointed out.

"Yes," Filia nodded gravely. "Gravos and Jillas are trying to cheer him up—they're taking him out for ice cream."

Xellos gave a little smile. "A salve for all life's wounds," he observed.

"Don't make fun," she snapped, turning to him with a sour look on her face. "She was his first pet—this is a big deal for him."

"I wasn't making fun," he scoffed. "Don't be touchy just because you didn't manage to keep her from sampling your highly toxic art supplies."

Filia didn't say anything. It was like he'd taken hold of a screwdriver in her gut and twisted it.

He seemed to take pity, at least enough to change the subject. "Do you think you'll get him another pet? Perhaps one that curiosity isn't so inclined to kill?"

"I don't know," Filia said with a massive sigh. "It seems too soon. Like we'd be trying to replace her or something."

"It doesn't have to be another cat," Xellos pointed out. "It could be something you could keep in a cage so it won't go wandering off and getting into trouble—a guinea pig or some other small rodent."

Filia grimaced. "Don't those only live for four or five years? I don't want to do this again so soon."

Xellos tapped his staff into the ground where it crunched against the drought-starved grass. "You're going to have to get used to this, you know," he commented.

She stared at him, eyes narrowing as she looked for his angle. "What, do you think I'm going to turn this backyard into some kind of pet cemetery?" she asked derisively. "I told you, Snowball wasn't even supposed to _be_ in that storeroom. Someone left the door partway open. It was an accident. Despite what you may think, I'm not negligent enough to let the same thing happen to another pet."

"I don't mean that," Xellos replied calmly. "You're a dragon living among humans, Filia. It just follows that you're going to need to get used to funerals."

She was silent for a moment, looking back into the makeshift cat tomb that scarred her lawn. There were some things that she just didn't want to think about anymore than she had to.

"I suppose it'll be rather odd for the town several decades down the line, now that I come to think of it," Xellos mused. "If you stay here, you'll practically be a fixture. Generations will pass, yet the grandchildren of your long-dead first customers will still know that they can get good deals on ceramics and melee weapons from the pretty little shop on the main street and the dragon girl who runs it."

She gritted her teeth. "Do we really have to talk about this?" she asked. "It's so morbid."

He put his hands on his hips and gazed heavenward, rolling his eyes at her under his closed lids. "Morbid? At a funeral? How dare I?" he conceded mockingly. "In any case," he went on, "if you chose to settle amongst other dragons—those with the same long life span as you—then you wouldn't have to think about it as much. But you didn't. You chose to live among people who will die significantly before you."

"Oh, a gift for magic has certainly been known to increase a human's lifespan, but that can only go so far," he added. "Your neighbors, your customers, Jillas, Gravos, Miss Lina, Mister Gourry, Mister Zelgadis and Miss Amelia… in all likelihood, they will all die before you do. Don't you think you should prepare yourself for that fact?"

Despite the summer's heat, the moisture in the air around Filia felt clammier than it did humid. Near everyone in her life that she counted as important had an expiration date well before hers. It was a terrible thing to think. Hadn't there been enough death already?

"I don't think anyone could really prepare for that," she said softly.

Xellos shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe," he allowed, "But at least if you try then it won't take you by surprise."

Filia wasn't sure about that. Even the hot stab of surprise seemed preferable to the cold, slowly tightening noose of dread. But there was no forgetting now that it had been brought up.

"Umm…" she said, breaking the silence as she reached down to pick up the shovel. As she drew back up, she looked at the makeshift casket intently once more before saying, "…So… do you suppose we should say a few words?"

Xellos looked mildly perplexed. "Words?"

"Yes," Filia said, slightly impatient. "Words."

He cocked his head to the side. "You mean something in the 'Ode on the Death of a Favorite Cat' vein?"

"Just… something nice, before we close up the grave," Filia said.

"…Very well," Xellos said after a moment's hesitation.

He took a step forward toward the open grave, thought for a moment, and then picked up a bit of loose dirt from the pile beside the hole. He cleared his throat. "Snowball," he began. "Truly your death has taught us that turpentine should be kept in a sealed container and on a high shelf where a small animal cannot poison itself on it." He let the dirt fall through his fingers and onto the sad cardboard box. "Rest in peace."

He stepped away from the grave, apparently satisfied with himself.

She gave him a hard look before shaking her head and chipping her shovel into the ground. "That was _miserable_," she declared.

He frowned. Sure, it wasn't exactly "a flight of angels sing thee to thy rest," but she'd asked a monster to give a eulogy for a domestic cat. What exactly had she been expecting?

"I just hope you do better at my funeral," she added, ladling a shovelful of dirt into the grave.

There was a pause, slightly longer than it should've been. "…What?" he asked.

"Well, it makes sense doesn't it?" she said, stopping her shoveling to lean on the handle as she looked at him. "If I've got to get used to funerals then you _really_ have to get used to funerals."

"I wouldn't imagine many people would invite me," he said lightly.

Filia snorted. "Since when do you need an invitation to show up anywhere?"

She got back to her shoveling. "So, are you saying you wouldn't show up to pay your last respects to me?" She paused. "Or more like your _first_ respects, come to think of it."

His eyebrows were drawn together ever so slightly. "I… may," he said carefully.

A wistful look crossed her features for a moment and her fingers squeezed the shovel handle. "So… after I'm gone," she said slowly, "…will you still remember me?"

"Hmm?" he asked, as though lost in thought.

"Like, after I'm dead will you just sort of… forget I ever happened, or will you still wince every time someone says the word 'garbage?'"

He gave a smile that was accompanied by a barely audible laugh. "I can say with certainty that your rudeness will live on long after you're gone."

She nodded, satisfied. "And you'll remember it," she said certainly. "So that'll be my immortality."

He opened one eye, more a look of cautious confusion than of malevolence on his face. "Your… immortality?"

"Yes," she said. "Because you won't die, right?"

He paused, absent of his usual nasal "Hmm"s to fill the space between words. Instead he opened his other eye and regarded her words very seriously. "I won't die," he finally said, "…naturally."

She tapped her shovel against the filled-in hole, packing in the loose dirt. "Naturally," she repeated, a slight trace of bitterness in her voice.

"And you, Filia?" he asked, sweeping over so that he was standing on the other side of the small grave from her. "Will you remember me?"

She frowned. "Why would you even ask that? It's not like it makes any difference in my case."

"You got to ask me," he pointed out. "It's only fair."

She tossed the shovel to one side. "Of course I will," she said, as though it went without saying. "But that doesn't even mean the same thing. You're not mortal, so if you remember me even after I'm gone, then you can be my immortality. But I am mortal, so it doesn't matter if I remember you because eventually I'll die."

"Of course it matters," he chided. "It just means that instead you're my…" he trailed off. "…Ah, that's it, isn't it?" he said, almost to himself. He shook his head, a strange smile on his face. "I might've known," he said.

She gave him an odd look "…Might've known what?" she asked.

"Never mind," he said. He let out what was very nearly a sigh and extended a hand to her across the grave. "I think it's about time we joined Val, Gravos and Jillas at the ice cream parlor," he said. "I think we both could use some cheering up."

She looked at his hand hesitantly. "Even you?" she asked.

"It happens sometimes, Filia," he said patiently.

She slowly reached out and put her hand in his, walking around the grave and over to his side. "Who's paying?" she asked.

"You, of course," he said simply as they walked toward the back gate. "It's your fault I need cheering up."

She scoffed. "Me? What did I do?"

"That… is a secret," he said, guiding her along until they reached the sidewalk.

She groaned. "Of course," she said, rolling her eyes.

"However…" he said slowly, "I can give you a sincere opinion on this whole situation."

"Really?" she asked, as though doubting his ability to be sincere.

He stopped their hand-in-hand jaunt in the direction of the ice cream parlor to look her directly in the eye. "…I think you should get that guinea pig," he said solemnly.

Filia raised a blonde eyebrow.

"Everything dies, Filia," he said. "Both you and Val need to come to understand that. If the only reason you don't want to get another pet is because you don't want to deal with it dying, then that's not reason enough. After all, it's not as though you'd end your friendship with Miss Lina or any of the others simply because in all likelihood they'll die before you."

He looked away from her. "It's not as though I'd leave you because I know someday you must die."

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. Her hand felt slick in her glove, more resting against his hand than actually held by it. She wanted to remember this moment for as long as her lengthy but finite lifespan would allow. She wanted to take it out later and examine it from multiple angles—question it, deliberate on it, and treasure it.

…But jut for the course of their conversation along the way to the ice cream parlor, she wanted to distance herself from it.

"Xellos…" she croaked, not realizing that her throat had gone slightly dry.

"Yes?"

"You…" she began, casting around for what to say before deciding on, "…You're not seriously comparing me to a pet are you?"

He grinned and continued his movement forward, pulling her along by nothing more than his fingertips lightly brushing against hers. "I would never," he said in mock offense.

"Good," she said.

"…But if I were to," he went on, "I'm sure I wouldn't pick a guinea pig or a cat to compare you to. I'd probably choose something more long lived and overly talkative, like a parrot."

She rolled her eyes.

"No?" he said. "How about an iguana? Am I getting closer?"

"Not in the least," she said, lacing her fingers more firmly in his. "But you seem to have cheered up. Are you sure you still need me to pay for that ice cream?"

"Nice try, Filia," he said, leaning in closer to her as they walked down the road. "You're not getting out of it that easily. I told you that ice cream is a salve for all life's wounds. Since you're the one that inflicted them, you're the one that needs to fix it."

"It's not like you to bruise so easily," she commented. "It's very…" she trailed off for a moment, the pieces falling into place so suddenly that it startled her.

"…Very mortal of you," she finished.


	34. The Man of My Nightmares

**The Man of My Nightmares.**

"I am _so_ sorry about this, Miss Filia," Amelia confessed in a shrill whisper too quiet for even the guests seated at the nearby table to hear, let alone anyone else in the crowded ballroom.

Filia smiled fixedly, aware that every guest in the room had their eyes on the princess. It was all so bizarre. Here was Amelia on her big day—wearing a dress that probably cost more than Filia's house—all grace and royal dignity; here she was, the absolute apple of the eye of Seyruun's celebrating residents; here she was, finally married to Zelgadis after much feet-dragging and excuses on his part. This was the happiest day of her life. And yet, she felt the need to deliver a sincere apology for making the kind of hard decisions that any reception planner must inevitably make.

Filia glanced from Amelia to Zelgadis, dressed up in his military best and with a thin, ceremonial sword tucked at his side, so unlike his usual broadsword. He was letting Amelia take care of the heavy-duty meeting-and-greeting of the wedding guests while his eyes shot back and forth suspiciously across the room—still more in the mindset of a guard than a groom.

"He was probably going to show up anyway and I had to put him somewhere," Amelia was explaining in her ear.

Filia eyes were drawn magnetically to Xellos, still standing at her side after getting up from his chair to receive the greetings of the bride and groom. He was grinning, damn him. _Of course_ he was grinning.

"There are a lot of really important people here today," Amelia continued wretchedly. "I just thought… maybe if I sat you two at the same table that he'd be too focused on _you_ to cause trouble with anyone else."

Filia's stomach still boiled with wrathful acid from the discovery—the _indignity _as the usher directed her to her assigned table and she found Xellos sitting there in that faux-innocent manner of his. A card sat on his place setting with his name in a flourishing script—the place right next to it had a similar card with her own name.

And she'd thought it _had_ to be some kind of mistake. Or that perhaps Xellos had moved the place settings himself. Amelia wouldn't have purposefully tried to torture her by seating her next to Xellos. That's what she'd told herself… but…

"Sorry…" Amelia finished, drawing back from her with an unrelentingly pitiful look. It must've been hard to look so pathetic in a skirt that nearly tripled her size, but she managed it.

Filia strove to speak, remembering first to unclench her teeth. "It's… it's fine," she finally said, breaking into an uneasy smile. "You shouldn't worry about that anyway. I mean… today's about you."

Amelia let out a massive sigh of relief before tipping her silk-enshrined form forward to hug the former priestess. "I knew you'd understand!" she cried.

Filia kept her smile in place as Amelia greeted the rest of the people at their table—second cousins twice removed or other such obscure relatives that no one could keep track of, but who got invited to big family events anyway. As soon as Amelia drifted away toward the next table, to attend to her other guests, Filia's smile immediately dropped. She turned to Xellos, silently broadcasting her displeasure.

"What?" he asked, giving his attention to her after gesturing with one last wave to Amelia and Zelgadis.

"Must you ruin all blessed occasions?" she asked him coldly.

He sat down in his chair, flaring out the tails on his suit jacket as he did so. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I haven't ruined anything at all. I'm just trying to enjoy my Chicken Kiev in peace."

Filia sat down at his side with a disbelieving, "A likely story!"

Despite his claim, Xellos's attention was focused much more heavily on Filia than on the breaded chicken dish sitting on his plate. He tapped his fork against the table a few times, a thoughtful look on his face. "I think I know where all this bitterness of yours is coming from," he finally concluded, arching an eyebrow at her. "What do they say? 'Always a bridesmaid, never a bride?'"

Filia clucked her tongue in exasperation. "That's… that's not even… Well, look, I'm not even a bridesmaid so that doesn't apply."

"Oh really?" Xellos asked, slightly taken aback. "I assumed you were. That mockery of fuchsia and ribbons you're wearing looked like the sort of dress a bride who wanted to guarantee she wasn't competing for attention with any of the wedding party would assign."

Filia glowered, straightening out the wrinkles on an overly puffed sleeve as she did so. There's being evil and then there's just being _catty_. "I'll have you know, I made this dress myself."

Xellos picked up a glass of wine, staring into the liquid as he swilled it around. "That explains a great deal."

She swiveled around in her chair to face him in full, ignoring the cooling meal on her dish. "Well, why don't you explain to me how you don't even know who's in the wedding party? I didn't know spies were so unobservant."

He made a little "Pfft" sound before taking a drink of his wine. "The logical explanation would be that I didn't attend the wedding."

Filia was stuck for a moment. It made sense. She hadn't seen him at the wedding, but assumed he'd be observing from a distance. "So… you showed up at the reception, but not the wedding?" she asked skeptically.

Xellos shrugged. "In my experience, receptions are much more rewarding to attend than weddings." He cast his glance upwards in reflection for a moment. "I think it has something to do with an open bar and the promise of cake."

"So you're just here to mooch!" she concluded, not bothering to keep her voice down. "I bet you weren't even invited."

"There was a place already prepared for me when I arrived," he argued. "I think that implies an invitation."

"Ha!" she returned. "Forcing people to plan around your gate-crashing isn't the same as being invited. It couldn't be clearer that you're completely unwanted here!"

He chewed a bite of his chicken thoughtfully. "That is both harsh and unfair," he said after a moment. "But I'll overlook it since it is clear that your aggression is born out of fear of becoming an old maid."

She let out a scoffing noise. "You're out of your mind," she informed him.

Perhaps she would've elaborated, but a cough from the other half of the table turned both their gazes away from each other. "Umm… excuse me?" one of their table mates cut in—a woman with slightly greying hair and a ridiculous hat. Filia couldn't read the woman's name tag from her angle, but it seemed to be quite lengthy. "I don't mean to interrupt," she said, turning toward Xellos with the corners of her mouth drawn down in concern, "but I was wondering… you're not one of those dastardly men who show up at weddings they're not invited to for the sole purpose of taking advantage of the desperation of single women are you?"

Xellos stared at her, momentarily unable to respond. "Um… no," he finally said. "No, I'm not."

The woman across the table dropped her judgmental gaze and stared instead into her soup. "Oh," was all she said. She sounded somewhat disappointed.

Filia realized that her jaw had fallen open at some point in the course of this exchange and attempted, with some difficulty, to correct it. "Is…" she began, not quite sure how to continue as she gave Xellos a horrified look. "Is _that_ one of the 'rewards' of wedding receptions?"

Xellos gave her a weary look. "If it was, Filia, ask yourself this," he responded in a withering tone, "do you think I'd be sitting with you?"

Before Filia could answer, a chiming rang out from the head table. She craned her neck around to see the wedding party, having concluded their exhausting meet-and-greet, back in their seats. There were familiar faces—Amelia and Zelgadis of course, along with Lina and Gourry who seemed to have had their patience tested by forgoing food to act in their roles as maid of honor and best man. They already had forks and knives in hand and were glaring at the figure sitting on one side of Amelia, who had interrupted their chow-down before it even began.

King Philionel was tapping at his wine glass with a spoon to command everyone's attention. He seemed to have pulled himself together a great deal since the wedding, when Filia had last seen him. It was quite a sight to see a man that big and self-assured weeping as though he'd never run out of tears. But it was a proud sort of crying. Filia was sure that, after all Seyruun had been through in the last year, that the new King was relieved to trade the mournful tears shed after the death of his father, King Eldoran, for the joyous tears at the marriage of his youngest daughter.

There were other faces there that Filia did not recognize—members of the royal family, perhaps. There was an old woman with grey haired piled up high on her head, holding a handbag and wearing a look of displeasure. Her hat had a taxidermy starling perched on top of it which was… an odd choice for wedding attire. Next to her sat a rail thin, tiny old man who seemed to be enjoying the proceedings much more than his seat-mate. Closer to the center of the table and the bride and groom, sat a very tall woman who was in the process of downing a mug of beer. Despite the fact that the wedding party couldn't have been seated at the table for very long, she already had quite a few empty glasses in front of her. She slammed the empty mug down on the table and motioned to a waiter for another one, pawing at her bridesmaid dress all the while as though not used to wearing so much clothing.

"People of Seyruun," the King began, a broad smile on his face. "Loved ones, distinguished guests, today we celebrate the union of my dear daughter Amelia and—"

"Oh, it's just a toast," Xellos murmured, drawing Filia's attention away from the King. He put his spoon back on the table. "I thought we were going to peer pressure the bride and groom into kissing."

"What?" Filia whispered, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hmm?" Xellos turned to look at her. "…Ah, that's right, you probably haven't been to too many human weddings. It's just a silly little tradition. Guests will clink their glasses in order to get the bride and groom to kiss."

"That's… strange," Filia commented, stealing a glance at Zelgadis. He already seemed uncomfortable with these proceedings, being goaded into a public display of affection probably wouldn't have helped.

Xellos opened one eye and looked at her lazily. "Strange? I suppose. Don't dragons have any such traditions?" he asked. "I'd assume so. You're such a highly ritual-driven people after all."

"Well, we don't have any rituals like _that_," Filia responded, taken aback. "Nothing to make anyone kiss in public. That doesn't even happen at the weddings themselves."

"Of course not," Xellos responded patiently. "Such a spontaneous show of warmth and fondness would be far too scandalous for your uptight, reptilian sensibilities to process. No, I just meant," he went on, talking over Filia's attempt to register her umbrage at his less than respectful attitude toward dragon sensibilities, "I wanted to know what sort of wedding traditions you dragons keep." He held up a gloved finger to make his point. "This may surprise you, Filia, but, for one reason or another, I've never been invited to a dragon wedding."

"One reason or another?!" Filia screeched as silently as she could, knowing that they were drawing annoyed looks from guests who were trying to focus on Phil's toast. "You know _exactly_ what the reason is!"

"…May their future together, and as leaders of Seyruun, be bright," Philionel finished, lifting his glass high and taking a drink.

Filia reached out for her glass at the last minute and took a furious swig which she nearly choked on. She was doing it. She was letting Xellos distract her from properly enjoying the reception.

"Yes, well," Xellos began again, talking through the cheers from the guests after he finished taking a drink, "with that in mind, I'm not exactly likely to be a guest of honor at those sorts of affairs. I thought perhaps you could enlighten me. What characterizes a dragon wedding?"

Filia was silent for a moment. She folded her hands in her lap while their tablemates dug into their dinner before it got too cold. "…Fire," she finally said.

"Fire?" he repeated as the orchestra started playing soft, digestion-aiding nothings from the corner stage.

"Yes," she confirmed. "It's…" She absentmindedly smeared the mashed potatoes on her plate into a circle shape. "There's a large ring of kindling they set out where the ceremony takes place. Most of it's the usual sort of thing… wood, rope, sweet smelling grasses, but there's usually something a little extra. The bride and groom each choose a personal item of theirs—a piece of clothing, an article of furniture, a document—something that symbolizes their lives before they were together."

"And then they burn it," Xellos concluded, pressing his napkin against his upper lip. "Rather dramatic, but then again, I suppose we _are_ talking about golden dragons."

"It's not just that," Filia cut in, choosing not to comment on the perceived melodrama of her people. "When they set the kindling ablaze, all the guests flap their wings to make the flames grow higher and higher—until it's just a column of fire. The bride and groom fly into the center of it from above and that's where they say their vows."

"I'm assuming this is more a tradition of the Fire Dragon King's followers, than of the golden dragons as a whole," Xellos commented, taking another bite of his meal. His eyebrows drew together slightly, perplexed. "Still… that's an awfully hellish setting for a wedding."

Filia went for a drink of wine and rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't get it," she said. "Of course a _monster_ would only think that fire is for destroying things. Dragons understand fire. Fire warms houses, hatches eggs, melts ice. And that's not even mentioning our fine tradition of smithing."

She chewed thoughtfully on a piece of chicken. "Anyway, the idea of fire being dangerous and violent is part of the point. It's… well, it's a trial by fire, I guess you could say. Flying into that swirling mass of flame is frightening, even a little bit risky. But that danger is supposed to cement the union between the bride and the groom. They've passed through the fire—they've overcome that to be together."

Xellos sat back in his chair as the strains of violins played. "I already mentioned the dragon race's love of theatrics, but I suppose I didn't even know the half of it. But…" he began, cupping his chin in his hand. "I suppose I can somewhat see the logic of how living through a catastrophic situation with someone might strengthen your bond with them."

He looked at her, as though wondering if she had any thoughts on the matter. She appeared not to. Instead, she put another forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth and stared ahead at the two women sitting across from them—trying to embroil themselves in a private conversation and ignore the sporadic interactions on the other side of the table.

"And would you have anything like this?" Xellos pushed on, after it was clear that she wasn't going to comment. "A wedding reception? Some kind of feast?"

She cleared her throat. "No, nothing like that," she answered. "In fact, usually the newly married couple goes off on their own right after the wedding ceremony is completed."

"To?" Xellos asked.

"Traditionally?" she clarified, specifically not looking directly at him. "To gather nesting materials."

"…Ah," he surmised, a small, knowing smile on his face. "_Honeymoon._"

She nearly dropped her fork. "It's not…" she began, "It's not really about _that_." She straightened up in her chair, looking upwards imperiously. "It's an ancient tradition that began when dragon settlements were more scattered. New couples had to set up households in caves or forests. Now, for dragons that make the temple their home, the trip is really more about giving the couple some time on their own."

"Exactly as I said," he said, his smile not at all dimmed. "What do you _think_ they want time on their own for?" He shook his head. "I know the dragon race likes to put business before pleasure, but when the business is reproduction… well…"

She grimaced, a slight blush on her face. "The dragon race doesn't… we don't really…"

"What, _ever?_" he interrupted her, a mock-aghast look on his face as he leaned in to force eye-contact.

"You don't understand," she snapped. "It takes a lot of resources to feed dragon young, and the temple only has limited space. And anyway, dragons live much longer than, say, humans, so they're not as concerned with… replacing themselves. So there's a need to be…" she struggled for the word, "…careful."

Xellos leaned back in his chair, giving back some of the personal space he'd stolen. "I see," he said. "How very austere."

She hesitated before making a response. Generally speaking, her default policy was to disagree with Xellos. This was almost always the right and true thing to do. However, in this case… "Going to a human wedding, where there's such a sense of… celebration," she began wistfully, "I have to admit, that by comparison, my people treat the occasion with much more… solemnity." She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her pointed ear. "It's almost like there's a sense of loss about it."

"Did you ever think you'd do it?" Xellos asked, his question rushing out as though it had been lined up long before she stopped speaking.

"What?" she asked, giving him a wide-eyed look.

"Marry," he said. "Burn a symbol of your youth and innocence, fly through the circle of flame, take part in an ancient breeding ritual that your society has nearly rendered pointless."

She was stuck for a response for a moment. It all sounded so bleak when he put it that way. "I… I suppose in the back of my mind I thought I would," she admitted, thinking back. "But it was never really a priority."

He nodded wisely, reaching toward his plate for a bread roll. "I'm sure that makes the fact that you can't anymore much less disappointing," he remarked, breaking the roll in half.

Her forehead creased as she turned over his pronouncement. "Why do you keep saying that?" she asked. She wasn't exactly bursting with the desire for matrimony, but his continued poking at the subject was starting to get annoying.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, taking a bite of bread. "I just sort of _assumed_ that after your very dramatic and principled exit from the society of your people, that you weren't currently shopping around for a new temple in which to serve."

When he put it like _that_… "Well, of course not," she said stiffly.

"That eliminates your primary chance for companionship on that level," he opined. He grazed the tip of his index finger thoughtfully against his chin. "I suppose, though, we should never say never," he added. "There's always the lively and controversial world of interspecies marriage to consider. There's your sort of 'adoptive' people—the humans. And you get along quite well with beastmen, I've noticed."

"I hope you're not suggesting that I marry Jillas," Filia returned coldly.

"You'll hurt his feelings with talk like that, Filia," Xellos replied, a pleased smile on his face. "No, I think the humans are worthy of the most consideration here. You are, after all, taking human form and living primarily amongst humans. There's a degree to which you can fall into their mindset and thus relate to them—you have many human friends. But…" he went on, as though they'd approached the knotty part of the issue, "…ultimately, the relationship could only go so far before certain incompatibilities might become obvious. Possibly insurmountable ones."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "…What are you talking about?"

"Well, as you and I well know, Filia, though you are able to nearly perfectly imitate human form," he coughed here and added: "most of the time" in a mumble, "you still retain many of the attributes of your true, dragon form—such as weight, strength and stamina." He raised an eyebrow at her. "That might be a little… _much_ for the average human to take."

She hadn't quite arrived at his point yet, but was close enough to dislike where this was going.

He sighed magnanimously. "Either you'd have to be a much more restrained lover than I assume you to be or…" He tut-tut-tutted with his tongue a couple of times. "Let's just say, crushed pelvises are a possible hazard a human suitor of yours would have to contend with."

"How dare you! You… You REPULSIVE, VULGAR BEAST!"

_Smack_. Her chair hit the floor and the reality of the many, many other people in the room hit Filia. They gawked at her, mouths agape at the red-faced, visibly shaking woman standing before the table. She was huffing and puffing and looked one moment from blowing the house down. Filia tore her gaze from Xellos (who was incidentally looking very proud of his workmanship) to the head table where Amelia was wearing a "No please! No! Not here! Not now!" expression.

Slowly, and under a great deal of pressure, Filia leaned down and righted her chair. Aware of the gaze of hundreds of people upon her, and none more prominent than the two ladies at her own table who were already trying to edge their way toward another group, she sat back down. She took several deep breaths, staring only at her hands—still clenched in shuddering fists.

"Ummm… everyone please try to finish up your meals quickly," Amelia tried from the head table. Her voice was higher than usual and to Filia it sounded as though it was coming from the other end of a long tunnel. "They're going to be bringing the cake out soon."

It took a few minutes, but the crowd grudgingly resumed its chatter—though not without stealing several intrigued or appalled looks at the dragon girl sitting at a table not too far away from the royal family.

As Filia gradually got her breathing under control and managed to persuade her fists to unclench, she took a moment to give herself a bit of a mental pep talk—perhaps even a congratulations. Granted, that outburst didn't exactly look _good_. But the fact of the matter was that only a few years ago a comment like that from Xellos would've almost certainly goaded her into transforming. She was getting better at resisting—better at keeping her human appearance intact regardless of what her wildly running emotions.

"The tail might be a bit of a problem as well," Xellos said in a tone that might've been described as gentle if it wasn't so obvious how much fun he was having.

Filia looked down and, sure enough, there was a golden-scaled tail poking out from under her skirt. She quickly slid it under the table and decided that she was still doing pretty well, self-control-wise, because she hadn't 1. Transformed _fully_; or 2. Beat Xellos over the head with a silver platter.

She took another deep breath. "You are," she began, but had to pause to take a minute to ensure that she stayed under control, "the _vilest_ creature I have ever met in my life."

"Charming, as ever," Xellos responded, not at all impressed by her more focused rage. "But did it ever cross your mind that I'm doing you a service by making you aware of uncomfortable truths?"

She said nothing, but she did not look like a woman who felt she had been provided excellent service.

"These are things you should probably consider if you ever intend to find the so-called 'man of your dreams,'" Xellos informed her, an ironic smile in place.

Filia snorted. "Well, I've already found the man of my _nightmares_," she grumbled.

Xellos chuckled. "Those weren't nightmares," he informed her.

"…And, you know, perhaps I'm not a bad choice," he added, after a moment's thought. "You wouldn't have the same problems with me that you might have with others outside your own race. I'm much more… ah, _durable_ than your average man. And I can't say I mind the tail at all."

Her face contorted in disgust. "Don't you even _pretend_ to take that idea seriously," she warned him.

"But it's more than that," he went on, ignoring her comment. "I don't think either of us knows anyone else even half as well as we know each other. And that must count for something, regardless of whether your dreams of me are good or bad."

Filia opened her mouth to respond. His every comment had been catching her off-guard, but this one did so for a different reason. His previous comments had almost seemed like he was betting with himself as to how far he could push her—how much he could offend those uptight, reptilian sensibilities that he accused her of having. Perhaps it was just in contrast to those comments that that last one seemed so different.

She was spared replying, though, by the announcement that the cake had arrived—a lush, multilayered thing with columns of frosting in white and pale pink. Candied flowers ran down its sides like an overflowing fountain of botanical saccharinity. Filia watched as it was rolled—carefully—up to the princess and the new prince on a cart. Zelgadis stood up and was handed a knife by the chef. The action felt rehearsed, maybe because of the stiffness in Zelgadis's manner (though he can hardly help that). Amelia followed behind him, placing a hand over his. When she looked into his eyes, some of the nervous aggression seemed to fade from them—some of the anger at this perfunctory ritual that was required of him in order to have the things he needed and wanted in life—some of the fear at the privacy of their tender moment being invaded. With that attitude, they reached upward and, together, cut the first slice of cake. Everyone in the room broke out into applause.

And that moment hurt a little—the simple sweetness of it all. The idea of this matrimonial world being blockaded had never really occurred to Filia before that day. It wasn't something that entered her daily thoughts—her desires or her priorities. Perhaps there was some small tendril of expectation in the back of her mind—a leftover from her childhood—but it was barely acknowledged. If it had snuck to the forefront of her mind then she probably would've come to terms with it as unlikely in her situation—and she would've done so on her own. It was Xellos's smug flaunting of the idea that she couldn't ever have this which had made her itch at the thought—to want to have something that he said she couldn't. But even that she could've gotten beyond with time. It was just one of Xellos's taunts after all. But seeing a moment like that between Zelgadis and Amelia, who had overcome so many difficulties to be together… The companionship that they shared fell off them like fumes, leaving her with a contact-high of affection. She couldn't experience something like that without feeling a little lonely… especially when grappling with the concept of "never."

Xellos watched her face as this feeling passed through her. "I suppose you could always try to catch the bouquet," he suggested. "The woman who catches it is supposedly the next one to get married. Since the odds are against you, why not appeal to superstition?"

"What's the point?" Filia asked dully, resting her elbows on the table and letting her head fall into the cradle of her hands.

He tilted his head to the side. "Oh, Filia," he said quietly, "have I destroyed all sense of romance in you?"

"Shouldn't you be proud?" she asked sourly.

"Not particularly, no."

She lifted her head out of her hands, sitting up straight as she stared at the dance floor beyond her, where, very soon, the bride and groom would have their first dance. It was safe to say, that being a bride was almost certainly not in her future. That was alright, really. It wasn't a necessity. But… she could dance. She could still dance. And damn it, she _would_ dance.

It just came down to finding the right partner. She gave a sigh of inevitability and turned to look at Xellos, who was being passed his promised cake by a waiter. Xellos. The evil, obnoxious, no-good, very-bad, durable and tail-tolerating speaker of uncomfortable truths who she knew better than anyone else and who knew her better than anyone else. The man of her nightmares indeed. But, if you wanted to get technical about it, nightmares still counted as dreams.

As for Xellos, he wasn't much thinking about dancing _or_ about cake. It occurred to him that a bouquet would not be the only flying object up for grabs by the time this reception was over. It would not be difficult, he realized, to guarantee that he would be the one to snatch up the flung garter belt before any of the bachelors waiting to be unconfirmed could make the catch.

Of course, Xellos had little use for a token that would proclaim him the next man in attendance to be a groom. Marriage was a concern of the mortal races and certainly not any of his business.

…On the other hand… he knew a woman who could always use another garter belt.


	35. Guest Room

**Guest Room.**

There was no such thing as a pajama-day in the Ul Copt household. Filia had learned very quickly from mornings when she'd stagger downstairs in her nightgown for some sweet, consciousness-affirming caffeine or late afternoons when she'd get out of the bath with no desire to change out of her fuzzy bathrobe into real clothes. Those would _always_ be the moments when she'd find Xellos sitting at her kitchen table or turn around to see him standing right behind her. Being presentable as close to 100% of the time as possible had become the only appropriate way to respond to his random, unannounced and increasingly frequent appearances.

But at the very least, as a last, graspable straw of stability, she usually only had to watch out for _one_ disappearing-reappearing guest. Yet, as she carried a basket of laundry down the stairs that day, wondering what she should prepare for lunch, she came across a second guest she hadn't expected to contend with. Oh, Xellos was there too, sitting at a little fold-up table he'd evidently moved from the patio. He turned his head around to see her as she approached, revealing a sequence of cards in his hands. Across from him sat a craggily-faced stranger wearing a powder blue trench coat and a strangely accessorized pink scarf.

"Ah, Filia," Xellos said, reorganizing his cards. "Glad to see you've finally joined us."

"So is this the famous Filia?" the man asked with evident interest. He put his cards face down on the table and stood up, giving Filia a little half-bow. "Greetings and salutations, Miss Filia. Sir Xellos has told me so very much about his special friend."

Filia stared numbly at the stranger and wonder with horror just what garbage he'd spouted about her. "Special friend" was certainly a red flag.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" the man chided himself, resting his fingers on his forehead and his thumb on a very defined cheekbone. "I haven't introduced myself. I am Inspector Wizer Freion, a special investigator of the Ruvinagald Kingdom." He held out a hand as if for her to shake it.

Filia's hands were full of laundry at the moment and, even without that excuse, she wasn't sure that she wanted to shake hands with any associate of Xellos. He _looked_ like someone who'd hang out with Xellos too. He had the same shifty expression about his eyes. "Oh," she said. "…And what are you doing in my kitchen?" she added as diplomatically as she possibly could.

Xellos jumped in here. "I invited Mister Wizer here for a regular…" he trailed off and turned to Wizer. "What are we calling it again?"

"Boys' poker night," Wizer answered taking his seat once more.

"It's not nighttime," Filia pointed out.

"Don't play with semantics, Filia," Xellos said disapprovingly. "It's less dangerous than playing with fire, but not as much fun."

Filia frowned at him. This was awfully nervy talk from someone who'd invited a person over to _someone else's_ house. "And shouldn't you have more than just two people for a good poker game?"

"As a matter of fact…" Xellos answered as though this was a trifle embarrassing, "I did extend an invitation to Mister Milgazia as well."

"M-m!" Filia began, nearly dropping her basket. "Milgazia? As in the leader of the Water Dragon King's followers? As in a very well-respected and renowned golden dragon? _That_ Milgazia?"

"Yes," Xellos said matter-of-factly. "We've met on several occasions and I thought he'd be an ideal candidate to join our game."

There was a feeling like ice trickling down the back of her neck as Filia contemplated just how pleasant those meetings could've possibly been. You had to admire Xellos's audacity, though, in inviting a golden dragon on the level of the Supreme Elder to play a convivial card game with him. Or… perhaps not admire, now that she thought of it. More like "be aghast at."

She had to ask. "What did he say when you invited him?"

He shuffled around his cards, more out of discomfort than out of a need to organize. "He asked me if this was a life or death proposition. I said that he was being a bit melodramatic—a trait I've noticed in golden dragons as a whole, if I might add—but I was curious, so I asked him what he would do if it was."

"…And?" Filia pressed.

He looked up at her. "He said he was weighing his options."

A dead silence fell over the room. Clearly in the face of having to play cards and drink beer with Xellos, the fair-minded and sensible golden dragon had decided that death was preferable.

Filia put down her load of laundry and straightened up, crossing her arms. "So… was there really no one else you could invite along as well?"

Xellos shrugged and let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose Mister Gourry might've joined us, but inviting him would mean inviting Miss Lina and you're not at all equipped to feed the both of them."

Wizer nodded appreciatively and dipped a pretzel stick into a small bowl of honey mustard (both of which had been taken out of Filia's pantry without her approval). "Snacks are an essential ingredient of any proper poker night and if Lina Inverse were here, you can be sure her greed would allow for none of that."

"And as for Mister Zelgadis…" Xellos trailed off. "Well, I'd already been rudely turned down by one person and it seemed futile to make it two."

"It shocks me that those who call themselves your friends would treat you so rudely, Sir Xellos," Wizer put in, shaking his head.

"It's alright," Xellos said, with his usual smile. "As long as there's the two of us, the game can go forward."

"Of course!" Wizer agreed. "What are best pals for?" He followed this cringe-inducing statement with a seemingly never-ending laugh.

Filia stared at the two of them. So this was… this was really it, wasn't it? For Xellos, anyway. He traveled far and wide, knew a surprising variety of people, and, much though it pained her to admit it, he could even be charming and likeable when he concentrated and bothered to give a damn about it. Yet… here they were, not for some grand mission or magical conspiracy, but just a casual game of cards and chitchat, and all he could scrounge up was some weirdo from Ruvinagald. …And her, she supposed. This _was_ all taking place in her house. He had his best pal and his… "special friend." For all that Xellos could boast about, this was what it came down to in the end for people who were at least somewhat willing to subject themselves to him even when they didn't have to.

It was a little… stirring now that she thought about it. And pathetic, of course. Really, _really_ pathetic.

Filia blinked as a thought struck her. _Some weirdo from Ruvinagald?_

She turned to Wizer. "Ummm… Mister Wizer, is it? You did say you were from Ruvinagald, didn't you?"

"Why, yes, I did," Wizer answered.

"…Isn't that a long way to come from just for a card game?" she asked, casting a look of suspicion at Xellos. Would he actually have teleported a human to her house?

"It is a bit of a ways," Wizer confirmed with a nod. "I'll have a long carriage ride ahead of me tomorrow to get home."

"Well, that's—" Filia broke off, mid-polite response. "_Tomorrow?!_"

"Yes, and I must thank you," Wizer went on warmly. "Sir Xellos has told me that you've been good enough to provide me a place to stay for the evening."

Filia turned her head to Xellos, her neck making an angry, cracking sound as it swiveled. "He did, did he?"

"You have a guest room," Xellos pointed out calmly. "You might as well make good use of it. Otherwise, why have it at all?"

"That's not the point!" Filia countered, slamming her hands down on the card table and setting poker chips rattling. "Just because I let you stay here all the time doesn't mean this is your house! You can't just invite people willy-nilly without asking me first! You don't live here!"

Xellos shrugged. "But I _practically_ live here," he answered. He nodded to the wall next to the sink. "I even have my own mug."

Filia mentally cursed as she took in the obnoxiously tidy "Xellos" handwritten on a mug next to a similar mug with the name "Filia" on it. She'd known hosting that paint-your-own-pottery seminar would come back to bite her one day. "That… that doesn't mean anything at all. A mug with your name on it is hardly proof of residence! It's just… luggage!"

A wicked brainwave coursed through Filia's consciousness before Xellos could properly poke holes in her "luggage" comments or before Wizer could delve into the legal question of what constitutes proof of residence. "That's right," she said, a gleam in her eye as she turned to look at Xellos. "It's luggage," she repeated. "It's luggage because you're a _guest_."

"I think I'm more of a—" Xellos began before being cut off.

"And since you _are_ a guest," Filia went on, "that means that if you're going to stay here tonight, you're going to stay in the _guest room_. After all," she added, ready to throw his words back in his face, "I have a guest room. I might as well make good use of it. Otherwise, why have it at all?

Xellos shot her a look that was clearly meant to silently communicate that she was embarrassing him and herself in front of their visitor from Ruvinagald. "But you and I have a… a rather different sleeping arrangement already in place," he reminded her.

"Not tonight we don't," she informed him. "I'm sure if we did you'd have bothered to check with me before making plans that involve my house."

"But surely, Filia—"

"Oh, and fair warning to _you_," she added, picking up her laundry basket and looking to Wizer, who'd been watching the conversation with squinty disbelief, "it's not a big bed and Xellos is a very aggressive cuddler."

She turned on her heel and left the room with a little extra flounce in her step. "So enjoy that," she called over her shoulder.


	36. Excuses

**Excuses.**

Sometimes it's just not prudent to ask too many questions. After the previous day's very draining and costly battle against a pair of monsters with an axe to grind against them, most of Lina Inverse's crew wasn't inclined to start making a fuss about minor social inconsistencies amongst the group. After all, they were so tapped out of magical power after the fight, that they'd spent all the energy they had left on healing the most major of their wounds. With fresh cuts and bruises still uncured and lacking defenses if they got ambushed again, it was much more important that they keep a careful eye on things as they traveled along the road than it was to examine why things were just ever so slightly "weird" between two of their traveling companions.

It wasn't as though the behavior was completely unexplainable, anyway. They'd all have been toast if Xellos hadn't shown up when he did with his veiled threats about Beastmaster and the others "not liking" what their foes were up to. Heck, he'd personally blocked a downwardly stabbing claw that had been meant for Filia. She _always_ got a little awkward when she had reason to be grateful to him. Granted, she usually dealt with being in his debt by sticking out her lower lip and giving him the cold shoulder or by furiously alleging that he had some sort of wicked, backhanded motive for helping her. However, twisting her hands behind her back and throwing him anxiously searching looks was another perfectly normal way to respond to something like that.

It would also explain Xellos's extra smug expression. Though it didn't do much to explain why this smugness was occasionally switched out for a look of uncharacteristic hesitation, particularly right after aforementioned anxiously searching looks from Filia.

Looking back with the context of the strange atmosphere between the two in mind, it did occur to some of their friends that it was a bit unusual that the monster and the dragon had down to breakfast at the exact same time that morning. Still… that by itself wasn't exactly damning evidence of any sort of… unusual event. They'd come down late, so everyone else was already at breakfast and couldn't confirm whether they'd simply met up in the hall of the inn on their way down or not.

There was, however, a slightly more compelling mark of suspicion amongst them that any keen-eyed observer could pick up on. Again, though, most of them felt that it was better not to ask questions about it. Asking questions was dangerous. After all, they might get answers that most of them really did not want to hear.

"Hey Filia, what's that weird bruise on your neck?"

_...Most_, though not all.

"I mean, did you get it in the fight yesterday or something?" Gourry went on as Filia slapped a hand over the side of her neck. "'Cause I didn't remember you having that."

Lina sighed and rolled her eyes at Gourry as Zelgadis purposefully turned awy from the rest of the group. Amelia and Xellos watched Filia carefully for her response.

"I… it's nothing," Filia tried, knowing that spontaneous wound formation was probably not the best explanation in the world. "A… a bug bite, that's all," she added, not doing much better.

This appeared to be too much for the rational-minded Zelgadis, despite his desire to absolutely not be involved in this conversation. "That would have to be one big bug," he muttered.

"It was," Filia confirmed, trying to ignore a snickering Xellos as she straightened out her cloak to regain some dignity. "A huge pest," she added pointedly.

"Oh, was it?" Xellos asked, seeming to take a strange amount of offense to Filia's exterminating problems. "That's funny, because I didn't see any insects crawling around last night."

"You wouldn't," Filia countered cryptically.

"Gee, I didn't see any bugs either, and that place seemed so nice," Gourry said, scratching his hair as he considered the turn of events. He turned to Lina, with a somewhat worried: "You don't think we picked up any bed bugs, do you?"

"No, Gourry," Lina answered through gritted teeth as she rubbed her forehead ruefully, "I'm pretty sure we didn't."

"Oh, so it must've been some other bug then," Gourry concluded mildly.

"Yes, tell us all about this alleged bug who allegedly took a large bite out of your neck last night, Filia," Xellos prodded, pronouncing every word as though it was suspect. "I'm sure we'd all love to hear about him."

"I'm not sure that's really necessary," Amelia tried, holding out her hands as a bead of sweat dripped down her forehead.

"No, it's fine," Filia said boldly, leaning toward Xellos to take his challenge. "As a matter of fact, it was a cockroach."

"Oh, do tell," Xellos commented in a mock-intrigued voice.

"That's right!" Filia said, nostrils flaring slightly. "A filthy, garbage-dwelling cockroach!"

"How terribly ghastly for you," Xellos returned, all insincere sympathy, "to have such a thing caressing your neck as you lay in bed. I can only imagine the sound you must've let out when that happened."

"Do we really have to have this conversation?" Lina asked with a groan as Filia blushed. "I mean, couldn't we at least wait until we're not being targeted by enemies that could tear us to pieces without breaking a sweat?"

"There's just one thing I can't quite figure out about your explanation," Xellos went on, voice heightening critically as he completely ignored Lina's plea to abandon this line of inquiry. "I'd always been under the impression that cockroaches, however maligned, didn't actually bite people."

"This one did," Filia maintained.

"How peculiar," Xellos commented. "Did any crumbs of food from dinner perchance to fall on your neck to confuse the 'cockroach' or do you just have a particularly sweet tasting neck?"

Zelgadis reflected with a grimace that, were he to shoot himself, the bullet would probably ricochet harmlessly off his rocky skin.

"I wouldn't know," Filia said. Her tone was cold, but her face was just a degree away from projecting actual steam. "I'm not an expert on cockroaches," she added with a certain "takes one to know one" implication.

"Well then, perhaps it was just a love bite," Xellos suggested diplomatically.

"…This is starting to sound like a weird cockroach," Gourry commented, feeling only the very beginnings of disquiet.

"_Starting?!_" Lina repeated in disbelief.

"Well, he could've been more discreet," Filia hissed directly back at Xellos, ignoring the other two. "The cockroach, that is."

"Oh, but I'm sure he's the very definition of discreet," Xellos protested, wagging his finger in the same pose that he might use to tell them something was a secret. "_You_ could've worn a bandage over the mark, after all."

"And _you_ could stop going out of your way to poke holes in my cockroach explanation, Mr. Discreet!" Filia whisper-yelled at him. She was turned away slightly from the others to give the impression that she thought she was speaking only to him, but lacked the volume control to stop the others from actually hearing her.

He digested this allegation for a moment, and then appeared to make up his mind. "I suppose you're right," he decided. "Then I will have to go ahead and withdraw my questions." He waved a hand at the rest of the group. "And I'm sure the others are perfectly satisfied with your not-at-all ludicrous excuse for your hi—" he stopped and corrected himself—"bug bite."

"Yes!" Lina shouted, eager to have the conversation over and done with.

"Umm… sure," Amelia said, looking uncertainly from Xellos to Filia.

"For the sake of our mental health, yes," Zelgadis said, arms crossed.

"What… were we supposed to think something else?" Gourry asked without a trace of irony.

"There, you see?" Xellos asked, turning to Filia with a broad grin. "All taken care of—_discreetly_." He punctuated that last word by holding up his index finger.

Filia muttered something under her breath, but at least seemed mollified enough to let the subject drop.

Xellos smiled. It was best this way. Set the foundations of order and propriety wobbling, but never quite let them go crashing down. Now things were settled again, for the moment. Though he couldn't help but feel a certain… unfinished quality. It was like a tickle under his skin, prodding him to keep going instead of quitting while he was ahead.

"There is… just one more question I'd like to ask," he said, giving in to the desire.

"What?" Filia asked irritably.

He put on his best innocent face. "What kind of roach did you say it was again?"

Steam actually _did_ shoot out of her face. "You!" she shrieked, reaching for her mace as he disappeared, only to reappear a few feet away.

"It was only a question!" he called from the distance.

She answered his question by swinging her mace through the air he occupied as he teleported farther away again.

The others watched them as they chased each other around the forest. "There's going to be no living with them now, is there?" Zelgadis asked glumly.

"Pretty much," Lina agreed, scratching at her hair. "But it's not like we can say we didn't see this coming."

"True," Zelgadis was forced to agree.

"Still," Amelia said with a sense that the universe wasn't functioning quite as advertised, "you'd think that now that they've finally consummated their feelings that they'd be a little more… you know… loving to each other."

Lina gestured helplessly out to the pair in the woods. Filia had successfully split an ancient tree in two through the sheer force of her rage, but Xellos had just phased over to a different tree. "I think this might be as good as it gets."

"Maybe," Amelia said. In an effort to hold out some hope, though, she added: "then again, we don't know what they're like when they're alone."

"Are…" Gourry began, puzzlement and disgust fighting for dominance on his wrinkling brow, "are we still talking about Filia and the cockroach?"

"Jellyfish-brain!" Lina yelled, smacking her elbow into his gut. "The cockroach is Xellos!"


	37. Out of Time

**Out of Time.**

Filia shuffled her way to the front door, muttering to herself about who could possibly be calling upon her on her day off. Jillas and Gravos were tending the shop, so it couldn't be them, and Val and all his friends were in school, so nobody would be looking for him at home. She squinted as she put her eye up to the small glass circle and looked out.

She froze. Xellos! His smile looked even more disturbing than ever as the peephole glass warped it—making his face look rounder and the corners of his lips curl unnaturally. Beside him were two beastmen she'd never seen before. Standing taller than the other was a floppy-eared dogman dressed up like a costume wizard—pointy blue hat and all. The smaller figure was a grey and white cat with a fashionably feathered hat perched jauntily between his pointed ears.

Who were they? Xellos's henchmen? That didn't seem like his style… then again, knocking on doors wasn't his style either.

"Did we really have to come all the way out here?" the canine magician asked from the other side of the door. "We could've just stayed and helped build the maze."

"I'm sure Mister Wizer would've appreciated your assistance," Xellos chimed in, "but unfortunately the marquess was quite specific about my supervising the two of you, and since I have a very urgent errand to attend to, I'm afraid you must come along."

"What _are_ we doing here anyway, brother?" the cat asked, turning to the dog.

The dog shrugged. "Search me," he said.

Xellos smiled to himself. "We're here because it's Filia Time," he said. He emphasized the words as though they were of capital importance.

"What's a Filia?" the cat asked.

"Filia," Xellos began, "is the eavesdropping-prone ex-dragon priestess currently listening in behind the door instead of inviting us inside like a reasonably civilized person would."

Filia jerked the door open and glared at him. "Just _what_ is 'Filia Time?'" she demanded.

"Something that's long overdue," was Xellos's only response as he tilted his staff forward to make his way past her.

Filia looked beyond the dog and cat who were uncertainly following Xellos into her house. There was a carriage parked in the road. She hoped it had been simply borrowed instead of stolen. It had a barred window in the back which… wasn't really a positive sign.

She closed the door and swiveled around to survey her three uninvited guests. She pointed at Xellos. "_You_, I'll interrogate later," she announced. "Who are these people?" she demanded, eyeing the beastmen.

"These are Misters Flan and Zollan," Xellos explained, nodding toward the dog and the cat respectively. "At the moment we share an employer."

She stared at him. A few names that meant nothing, some mentions of an employer without discussing who or what they'd been employed for, and, to top it all off, the mysterious non-answer of "Filia Time." "Do you practice being vague in a mirror?" she asked him through gritted teeth.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Xellos said off-handedly.

"So, does this lady know how to help us get the Sword of Light or something?" Flan asked, hoping to get down to some business that he actually cared about.

Xellos sighed. He knew when to be tight-lipped, but he couldn't say the same about everyone around him.

"The Sword of Light?" Filia repeated in a half-shriek. She turned on Xellos, her fangs suddenly protruding in a countenance that was more reptilian than humanoid. "What are you up to this time, Xellos?!"

Xellos held up his index finger, a big, overdone grin on his face. "Say, neither of you have eaten anything since we set out this morning, have you?" Xellos asked his two companions. He generously waved his hand toward a hallway. "I'm sure Filia has something at least halfway edible in the house. The kitchen's that way."

"Now wait a minute, Xellos! You can't just—"

"Come on, bro!" Zollan called, jogging past the protesting Filia.

"Right behind you!" Flan said, pumping his arms.

"Hey!" Filia called, stretching a hand out after them. She groaned as they disappeared down the hall and turned back to Xellos, fist clenched.

Xellos, oblivious to this, watched the doorway they'd disappeared through. "You know, I keep meaning to ask them if there's any way they're actually related," he said thoughtfully. "But I think I might be better off not knowing."

Filia was beyond caring about any possible scenario that could allow for a cat and dog to be siblings. "Did you seriously bring thieves into my house and then set them loose in my kitchen?!" she asked hoarsely.

Xellos flared out his cape and took a seat in one of the parlor's salmon-colored armchairs. "Would-be thieves," he said gently, as if this made things any better. "If they were successful thieves than I wouldn't have had to take them along and could've used my usual mode of transportation."

"In any case," he said, looking up at her, "I couldn't possibly see you having any problem with them being here unless you've already fulfilled your 'beastmen who've attempted to steal the Sword of Light' quota."

Filia frowned and took the seat across from him. "They're… reformed," she tried. "And anyway, that's another thing," she added, on a fresh surge of anger at unanswered questions. "How could they be trying to steal the Sword of Light when the sword is _gone?_"

Xellos shrugged. "Replica," he said. It seemed to be all the elaborating he was willing to do on that score.

She leaned forward and looked him square in the closed eye. "Are you going to tell me what's going on here, or what?" she asked in a low voice.

He waved her off. "Of course not. There's no reason you should have to know anything about the current situation. That's not what I need you for."

Filia opened her mouth and let out an exasperated sound. It was typical of Xellos to not give any information yet still expect people to play along with his game. What wasn't necessarily typical was that he actually seemed to have come to her with a real task he needed accomplished. In the past when he'd popped in on her his goals had been… well, stupid stuff. Excuses, really. He'd claim that he was interested in sampling a new tea that she'd bought or that he'd just stopped by to chat. All of it ultimately came down to the fact that he just wanted to be annoying. This seemed a little more… focused.

Come to think of it… it had actually been awhile since he'd visited at all. He must've been busy… though busy with _what_ was the million dollar question.

"What do you need me for? Not," she added pointedly, "that I have any reason whatsoever to help you."

He sat there for a moment as thought searching for the words to explain his request. "I have to admit that I have been with rather…" he nodded his head ever so slightly in the direction of the kitchen, "lackluster company as of late." He rested two fingers on his forehead and shook his head as though something were a shame. "There's much to be developed, but it would go a lot better if I had the right person to bounce ideas off on."

Filia just let her mouth hang open. "You want to use _me_ as a sounding board for your evil schemes?" she repeated in disbelief. "Why _me?_"

He held out his hand with the palm up and, in a blurry haze of magic, conjured a saucer and steaming cup of tea. He didn't offer _her_ any tea. Not that she'd have taken any of his mysterious, nowhere-tea, but still, it's courteous to _offer_.

"Our conversations are always productive," he said, bringing the cup to his lips. He grinned and opened one eye. "I suppose you could say that you inspire me."

She scoffed and looked away, hoping her hair was doing a good enough job covering her ears which tended to get a little… pink at comments like that. It was a strange thing, though, very strange, for a demon to say to a dragon. "What am I? Your muse of mischief?" she asked in a tone that she hoped fully expressed how absurd he was being.

"Hmm," he hummed reflectively, looking up. "I like the sound of that actually."

She groaned. He'd make her regret coining that one; that much she was sure of. "To be that, I'd have to actually be mischievous and I'm _not!" _She crossed her arms. "If I inspire you to do anything it should be good. Not that there's any of _that_ to tease out of you," she added sharply.

He let out a little chuckle. "Is that what you'd expect, Filia?" he asked. "To be a little angel sitting on my shoulder, whispering that I should follow the path of right as ordained by the doctrine of the Fire Dragon King?"

She collapsed back in the armchair. "You'd do the opposite just out of spite," she muttered.

"Hence why you are the perfect muse of mischief," Xellos decided, bringing it full circle. "And even aside from that," he added, "you do have some expertise in what I need to plan."

"I'm not an expert at _anything_ nefarious and that's all you're interested in, so I don't know what help I could be!" Filia insisted.

"Look at the problem like this," Xellos said, "let's say that you wanted to persuade Miss Lina to do something. How would you—"

"Absolutely not!" Filia cut him off, standing up. "You can't be serious!" she shouted. "Miss Lina's my friend! I'm not going to help you talk her into whatever plot you monsters are cooking up!"

"Ah, but it's just the opposite," Xellos elaborated. "I'm asking, if you were trying to persuade Miss Lina to do something, what technique would you choose in order to fail in a most spectacular and painful fashion?"

Filia's forehead, generally smooth despite the many extra decades she'd lived longer than most around her, crinkled. "Why would you…"

"Ah-ah-ah," Xellos scolded, waving a finger at her. "'Why' is not where you come in."

He sipped his tea thoughtfully. "I was thinking at the start that a romantic overture might do the trick." He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a manner she categorized as most unsettling. "She's very immature and has a tendency to react to situations that make her feel unaccustomed emotions quite poorly."

Filia might've agreed if it weren't for the alarm bells going off in her head. "Don't you even _dare,_" she warned, summoning up from deep within her all the ultimately toothless fury that she could threaten him with.

"Oh, not _me_, Filia," he said, laughing her off. "You don't need to worry," he informed her cheerily. "My eye hasn't wandered. No," he went on, "I have someone else lined up for this little endeavor."

Filia privately wondered at the seeming improper invocation of his eye and its abstention from vagrancy. As far as she was concerned, an eye needed to be focused on something first for it to have the ability to wander off and, as far as she could tell, his eyes only seemed focus on his own eyelids. "Well then whoever he is, he's going to get blown to smithereens!" Filia predicted.

"Yes," Xellos agreed approvingly. "It's going to be hilarious."

Filia rolled her eyes. Of course. _Of course_ Xellos would see other people being in pain or distress as a plus to his plans and not a minus.

"So, what else?" Xellos prompted.

Filia resolved to put Xellos on the other end of a non-answer this time. It wasn't like she actually wanted to help him anyway and he deserved it. "Have you tried actually asking her outright to do something?" she asked sardonically. "Usually that'll make her do the opposite quicker than anything."

"A good point," Xellos said, to Filia's dismay actually seeming to like her "suggestion." "Perhaps I should be writing these down?"

"No!" Filia countered, flopping back into her chair. "There's nothing to write down because I'm not going to tell you anything more! I won't help you in whatever manipulative game you're playing!"

Xellos shrugged. "You already have. I mean, after all, I know how to _successfully_ get Miss Lina to agree to doing something because of you."

"Because of me?" she repeated helplessly.

"Oh yes," Xellos said. "The same ploy you used to con her into following you on your prophesy-following mission: use her big sister."

"That was not a con!" Filia shouted in disgust. "I do not con! I was just… encouraging her to do the right thing."

"Through fear of punishment," Xellos finished. "And it worked. Knowing that will help me a lot once it finally gets down to what needs to be done. But that's just too easy all at once. I need to come up with more failed approaches in order to make the exercise more entertaining. …From a spectator's perspective, of course."

"You… you can't just bring up Miss Luna to her just to scare her into doing whatever you want!" Filia said, shaking her head wildly back and forth. "That's despicable!"

"Oh? And it's not when _you_ do it?" he prodded.

"When I did it was for a noble cause!" she explained. "And even in that extreme case, with the fate the world at stake, I only used it as a last resort. I tried everything else to get her to agree with me before that, but she forced my hand."

"What else exactly did you try?" he challenged.

"I told her all about what the prophecy of destruction said and how much was at risk," Filia said, eager to establish her alibi. She punctuated her claim with a mournful sigh. "It would've moved any normal person to help, but Miss Lina is so stubborn sometimes…"

"Yes," Xellos mused. "A sentimental story wouldn't do much to get Miss Lina on someone's side at all. If anything, that kind of thing tends to aggravate her."

Filia looked up at him suddenly, eyes wide. "Y-you," she began. "That was not meant to be a suggestion! I was just explaining myself!"

"And your explanation will prove quite useful!" he said brightly. "Now, what else did you try to get her to join you?" he asked with studious interest. "Did you fight her?"

"No!" Filia yelled. "Well… yes," she had to admit, "but just to test her powers, not to try to get her to help. Fighting her wouldn't have made any sense to get her on my side. That wouldn't have—" she cut herself off, but too late.

"It wouldn't have worked at all," Xellos concluded. "Miss Lina's 'respect' for those who face her head-on in battle merely extends to her paying them the courtesy of a particularly fiery explosion. Perfect."

Filia didn't want to let out another peep lest she accidentally say something else that Xellos took as a legitimate suggestion. _Maybe I really _am_ the muse of mischief_, she thought with some horror.

"Hmm… that should be it… nearly," Xellos said to himself. "I feel like it needs something a little more… obvious and…" He snapped his fingers, a thought having occurred. "Snails!" he said, in the manner that some might say "Eureka!"

"Snails?" Filia repeated. "What does that have to do with ways of asking someone to do something?"

"Not much," Xellos admitted, "but Miss Lina has a horrible fear of snails. I'm sure I can work that into one of our proposals." He pursed his lips in thought. "Now I wonder… is her fear of snails _just_ about snails or does it extend to all sticky and slimy things?"

"_Nobody_ likes slimy things!" Filia pointed out. "Leave it to a pile of smelly garbage to not know that!"

"There's no need to go that far," Xellos said with a frown. "I'm neither slimy nor smelly. I am smooth and well-groomed."

Filia made a face. "I do _not_ want to know about that."

"Well, regardless," Xellos said, gripping the arms of his chair and hoisting himself up, "I think you've provided me with a great deal of useful ideas. Yes, that will just about do it."

Filia stood up. She thought about the carriage waiting outside and Val at school. He'd stop by the shop first and she could send word to Jillas and Gravos. They were trustworthy. She bit her lip. "I… want to come with you," she said.

His tea and saucer vanished; whether he'd meant to dispose of it or if it had been a reflex move out of surprise, she wasn't sure, but he was looking at her as though she was the single most befuddling thing he'd ever come across in his long and eventful life.

"Whether I meant to or not, I gave you ideas," Filia explained, knowing she'd probably regret this rash decision once she was on her way, but pushing forward none of the less. Jillas and Gravos wouldn't mind watching Val for a few days and she could put the shop on a bit of a hiatus. Something was going on and her instinct was to chase it. "I have to take responsibility for that and make sure you don't misuse them."

It took a moment, but he unslackened his jaw. He took a step closer to her. "I can't let you do that, Filia," he said, his voice quiet—not the cheerful assurance of power or the implied sense of threat she'd expected. It was hushed, as though the person with the most to worry about in a confrontation between the two of them was not her, but him.

"I'm not sure what attribute a muse of mischief would have," he went on, reaching forward as though he was going to touch her face, but stopping short, hovering in the air inches away from her. "Perhaps a whoopee cushion or a seltzer squirting flower. Nothing especially dignified that I can imagine. The point is, you can be that for me—here, where the stakes are only personal. But the situation out there could get serious and somehow…" He sucked in air through his teeth. "When things get dangerous, I'm not sure how you do it, but you actually sometimes manage to be that shoulder-angel instead. And I can't have that right now. I have a job to do."

She was drifting toward him. He'd delivered a monologue that somehow involved the phrase "whoopee cushion" and she was _still_ drifting toward him. How the hell did he always manage to do that? It probably had something to do with, in so many words, calling her his angel.

"I… if anything bad happens to Miss Lina," Filia tried, "I'll kill you."

"Spoken just like an angel," Xellos countered ironically.

"You know," he said, tapping his staff on the ground as though grappling with an internal conflict, "things are going to be… quite hectic for me very soon and I may not be able to stop in again for a while. With that said, it seems, oh… reasonable to me for us to perhaps extend Filia Time?"

Filia got the tone. Xellos was on the job right now. He wasn't doing light reconnaissance and waiting around for the next catastrophe. That kind of situation allowed for him to stop by her place, agenda-less, without too much trouble. After all, what was the harm? There was plenty of time and little to do. But now… now he'd come to her because he could construct a work-related reason to visit. Maybe it wasn't a very _good_ one. "I have evil-schemer's block and I need Filia's help to get back on my bastardly A-game," was probably not the best write-off in the world, but it was something. Now that order of business had resolved and he still wanted to stay.

And… she was tempted to let him.

But then there came a very ceramic-sounding crash from the kitchen. Filia could just picture the cookie jar that usually sat on the counter. She'd drawn a scene with an elephant on it and it had taken her quite a bit of time. Now it was probably raining earthenware across the tile floor.

"That… sounded bad," Xellos commented, turning an eye to the closed kitchen door where the panicked sound of two people trying to reassemble pottery without glue or skill could be heard. "Mm, speaking of bad," he added, turning to her with a furrowed brow as though a worrying thought had just occurred, "you don't actually mean you'd try to kill me if _anything_ bad happened to Miss Lina, correct? Surely you'd be willing to accept a minor scuffle and maybe some very temporary imprisonment, yes?"

There was a tremor from Filia; not a full on earthquake, but a good indication that it was time to find a table to hide under and try to remember where you'd stashed the candles and matches in case you had to find them in the dark. "Xellos," she said.

"Yes?"

"'Filia Time' is over!" she shouted, shoving him away.


	38. Prophecy

**Prophecy.**

Xellos shimmered into being in an alleyway, well out of sight of any of the people milling about in the crowded streets of the city. He had the half-formed idea that he might bide his time over a cup of tea, but was unsure as to whether he'd like to spend this break on something more productive or not.

The Dark Star summoning was off the monster race's agenda. That was the big takeaway from the meeting he'd just attended and changed much about what was to be done now. Funny, but he'd had the feeling all along that it would wind up getting shut down, even though there'd been a great deal of excitement about the idea initially.

Since Valgaav was the force pushing for the summoning, this left them with two options: persuade him to join their side or continue with their plan to simply eliminate him. Xellos was privately certain that the former would not work and that the latter would be necessary. And, despite the benefits his superiors saw to having someone as powerful as Valgaav join their side, he felt it would be better that way. Someone like Valgaav had his own set of motives and would be difficult to control even if he did side with them. They were better off without someone like that in their inner circle.

…That someone of Valgaav's ability could create some jockeying amongst the higher echelons of the monster race was an additional fact that did not escape him.

And so, it would almost certainly come down to him killing Valgaav. Which was fine, since it was the task he'd been given in the first place.

It wouldn't be much longer before the confrontation either. Lina's group was quite close to Valgaav's main base—by his own design. He'd luckily found a temple in the general area that made vague enough claims to excuse going there, so that had allowed him to prod them in the right direction.

And what thanks had he gotten for putting them on the correct path? Insults. Insults and being romantically linked with Filia of all people.

He grinned grimly as he meandered out into the main thoroughfare. Not people—_dragons_. That was kind of the point. Part of it, at least.

The worst of it was that he had to admit that in another time, in another mood, with another set of recent circumstances, he might've played along with the whole "temple of marriage" bit. It would obviously have been torturous for Filia, which would've added sumptuous layer of hilarity to a scenario already ripe for painful comedy.

But it wouldn't do. Oh, not now. Now it was a prickling, infuriating thought and one that had made his meeting with Lord Beastmaster to receive his orders a somewhat distracting affair.

It was perhaps the way Filia had reacted to the idea of fusing magic with him that made it impossible for him to even unseriously go along with the whole thing. Nobody could've expected her to take to the idea of fusing magic with a monster easily, but she'd felt the need to add a rather… _personal_ touch to the whole thing. To say that even if she _would've_ fused with a monster, it wouldn't have been him.

Charming girl. …And that… epithet she was so fond of using with him: garbage—filthy trash, waste, worthless nothing. How absurd. Nobody was expecting her to like what he'd done to her people, but someone capable of wreaking that kind of damage was at least _something_, if, admittedly, something she did not like. For her to treat him like dirt under her fingernails… like a nothing…

Well, she really had no idea. No idea at all.

And that's why he couldn't even shrug his shoulders and say that the temple's judgment was wrong and still go along with it. That's what made dealing with that little pronouncement in any way aside from open revolt unbearable.

But the most teeth-grating part of it was that this hadn't really come out of nowhere. If it had, it would've been stupid, but an anomalous kind of stupid. The whole fusion magic idea that had come before it held overtones of this, if only a metaphorical level. He'd have had to have been blind not to notice that symbolic level of the, ah, _union_ between the two of them. She must've understood some of this as well, whether consciously or unconsciously, because the language of her squawking rejection was tinged with it.

All of which left the temple's little pairing selection still _quite_ ridiculous, but not nearly ridiculous enough.

Compounding the issue was the fact that he'd been forced to admit that Filia was getting rather… interesting lately.

Oh, he supposed she'd been at least mildly amusing from the start, even if she oscillated between "entertaining" and "damnably obnoxious," but the effect was growing. The way she was beginning to fit in with Lina's group better than any golden dragon (particularly a follower of the Fire Dragon King) really should be able to; the way her rigid moralism competed with powerful vices (and the way the two often teamed up in an unlikely and highly hypocritical manner); the way she was a pressure-sealed capsule of literally every kind of emotion that was all too easy to burst in an explosion of tantalizing drama.

…Her traitorous move against the Supreme Elder had perhaps been the turning point that had elevated her from mere "social landmine" to someone to watch. She hadn't quite accepted the truth about her people yet, but it wouldn't be too long before the facts became undeniable. When that happened… well, he wanted to see the result.

She was getting to be worth more and more attention. That was perhaps why the temple prediction hit closer to home than it should've.

…Predictions. Filia was probably used to accepting predictions from temples and religious artifacts as truth, so she was likely even more shaken about this than he was. But she was a priestess, yes? If she wanted to double-check that compatibility nonsense then she could easily do her own prediction, could she not? A dragon priestess of her level should possess at least some degree of proficiency in divination. If it had only occurred to her, she could've put all niggling doubts about the matter aside by coming up with her own prophecy that counteracted the one from the temple of marriage, and prove that stating that the two of them made a compatible pair was nothing more than second-rate, psychic drivel.

He stopped in his tracks. A second opinion? Perhaps that wasn't such a bad idea.

If anything, it would be no more a waste of time than nursing a cup of tea and halfheartedly abusing the wait staff.

* * *

The door seemed to be stuck so Xellos had to push twice to get it to creak open and chime a sad, dusty bell affixed to the doorframe. This wouldn't have happened, he knew, if he'd stuck to the main street and picked one of the psychic parlors with flashy lights and advertising and customers and an absence of rats. But, the thing was, he wasn't interested in a show. That was really what you were paying for with the more successful fortune tellers. For a guarantee of genuine skill, it was necessary to strip away the veneer of showmanship and the personal intuition to tell people exactly what they wanted to hear.

All of that meant that Xellos's chances of finding a viable second-opinion in the town he'd stopped in without doing a great deal of extra searching went exponentially up on the shabbier side of town. He'd wanted to find a fortune teller with a second job—perhaps who sold shoes during the day—but he hadn't been lucky enough. He'd make do with what he'd found.

What he'd found in this out of the way little shop with the symbol of a crystal ball above it was a middle aged woman who looked like she'd happily be mistaken for a crone. She tossed stringy ginger hair out of her face and gave him a preemptive look of suspicion through glasses that looked as though they'd been warped by ocean tides.

"I'm not going to get involved in criminal activity," she warned him.

He tilted his head to the side. That was a new one. "I'm sorry," he tried, "but I'm not sure what you're talking about Miss uh…"

"Placenta," she supplied.

He stared at her as though expecting her to break out with a "…just kidding!" any minute.

"Don't look at me like that," she said sternly. "I didn't pick it."

"Well then, Miss uh… Placenta," he said, the name refusing to fall naturally into his sentence, "I don't know what sort of requests you usually get here, but I was under the impression that a person could come here to get a psychic reading."

"That's exactly what I mean," Miss Placenta replied, striding forward and giving him a more critical, close-up look. "You, sir, you got the stink of bad news about you. Like a Mafioso or a thief or a senator." She pronounced this last category as though it inspired the most revulsion of all. "Don't you know they can charge me as an accessory if any psychic information I give you gets used to commit a crime? If you want to ask where the bodies are buried, you're gonna have to pick on a different fortune teller!"

"Oh no," Xellos answered, shaking his head and holding one hand up. "I had no intention of asking anything like that. I only wanted to ask about…" He paused. It was all so appallingly common when you actually laid it out. "…About my love life," he finished.

"Oh." Miss Placenta's weathered face brightened up immensely at this more familiar subject and at the prospect of getting her hands on some legally unquestionable cash. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" She shuffled over to a cabinet with multicolored plant life poking out from the shelving. "Can I interest you in a charm or a potion then?"

"None of that," Xellos said, waving off her herbs. "My request is less general. I'd like to know about a specific person."

Upon this further information, she beckoned him to an unlit corner of the room, leveling a heavy glass ball out from a shelf below the table. Xellos could see that it was cheaply made, with stilled little bubbles beneath the clear surface of the orb and the occasional superficial crack here and there. Miss Placenta blew at a little stand fixed to the table to clear out the dust and then slotted the ball into place. It didn't seem that the stand and crystal ball had come as a set because the ball seemed a little small for it, but it didn't roll off the table here, so all was well. Xellos took a seat on a stool that was slightly wobbly despite the fact that a piece of cardboard has been slid under the short leg.

Miss Placenta sat down across from him and placed her hands over the crystal ball, but didn't bother looking into it much. "So this… girl you're asking about," she began as though making a guess that she wasn't very confident in, "I'm picking up the fact that you've only known her for a relatively short time but… yes, she's made quite an impression on you already," she went on, still watching for the slightest flicker in his expression so that she could correct course if needed. "And her name starts with a…" she began, trailing off searchingly.

"Her name is Filia," Xellos cut her off abruptly. "She's a blonde, has blue eyes, is, yes, quite attractive, and I'm not completely certain of her age myself, but I wouldn't bother trying to guess it or you'll almost certainly miss the mark. The same goes for her weight." He raised his eyebrows. "I'm pressed for time and I'm honestly not that interested in watching you play a guessing game about who I'm talking about to try to impress me with information I already know, so, if you wouldn't mind, could we skip ahead a little?"

Miss Placenta shrugged shawl-wrapped shoulders. "It's your dollar, I guess," she said.

She shifted her attention from him to the crystal ball, squinting her magnified eyes at the warped surface of the orb. Raising a thin eyebrow, she reached over and lifted the ball from its stand, grasping it in both hands. She shook it by her ear and listened, as though expecting to hear something jostling around inside it. After apparently not hearing anything to answer her questions, she breathed a moist fog onto the glass and wiped at it with the corner of her shawl. When the squeaking subsided, she placed the ball back in its stand and gave the contents of the sphere another searching look.

"…I don't want to be insulting or anything," she said, not even daring to look up, "but is your Filia some kind of iguana girl or something?"

A genuine smile twitched at the corner of Xellos's mouth, fighting against the more superficial one that made up his default expression. This was cause for some cautious hope in the endeavor. Any two-bit sham artist could guess something like hair color or age with a bit of luck and skillful attention to their mark, but picking up on the fact, however clumsily, that Filia was a dragon? That wasn't something someone would say as a guess.

"Something like that," Xellos answered cheerily.

Miss Placenta opened her mouth like she was about to question this, but seemed to decide against it, muttering something about other people's kinks not being her business. Instead she rolled back her shoulders and placed her hands over the crystal ball, evidently ready to return to her work. "Alright then, let's see what's between you two…"

There was silence for a few minutes as she gazed into the glass. Occasionally she'd swivel the orb around or look at it at odd angles, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration.

"Well, there might be something to the two of you after all," she announced. "I mean, there is definitely a connection that I sense. She seems to think a lot about you and there's just this… swirling cloud of emotions associated with you."

"What _kind_ of emotions?" Xellos asked carefully.

It didn't seem like a complicated question to him, but Miss Placenta bit her lip as though it was something worth hedging on. "Oh… you know," she said, "emotional ones."

"One would imagine," Xellos went on, trying to keep his tone friendly but get at the actual answer he needed. "But which specific emotions is she experiencing?"

The psychic sighed as though ready to give up the ghost (instead of conducting a séance to communicate with it as a psychic normally would). "I don't really know," she said. "I can't tell."

"…Surely there's a way to distinguish between emotions," Xellos tried. "You're clearly able to sense them. Aren't those who possess a sixth sense supposed to be able to identify emotions by the color of a person's aura?"

"Right, sure," she said, "but I've never really called what I've got going on a 'sixth sense.' Add everything up and it's more like a 5.5th sense, if that's even a thing." She tapped at the frame of her glasses. "Colorblind, you see? There's not much of a chance of me reading auras right."

It was only a great deal of self-control that kept Xellos from slumping in his seat. A monochromat medium? Of course. It had just been that kind of day.

"I suppose I'll just have to look a little bit into the near future to see if anything becomes clearer," Miss Placenta announced, perhaps knowing that her admission hadn't been very well received.

"Or more colorful," Xellos muttered.

She ignored him, instead concentrating on whatever images she could make out in her crystal ball. After a moment, she peered at him over her glasses, her expression suddenly more concerned than when she'd had to confess to colorblindness or even when she'd accused his for-all-she-knew love interest of being a lizard. "I hate to break it to you, but I think you might have a romantic rival," she said.

Xellos raised an eyebrow. "I have a _what?_"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I mean, she's still emotionally connected to you in this very conflicted way," she added, as though to reassure him, "but… she's got some conflicted emotions for another man too."

Xellos opened his mouth and it was a moment before he spoke. "Who?" he finally asked, shortening his initial question of: "Who could _possibly?_"

"Don't know," Miss Placenta answered, squinting into the glass once more. "Kinda tall, brooding guy—seems to like exposing his midriff."

"…Valgaav?" Xellos tried, almost completely mystified.

"Sounds about right," Miss Placenta decided. "She seems like she's going to be giving him a great deal of thought in the future."

"Hardly proof of any romantic intent," Xellos was quick to point out.

Valgaav was the last of the ancient dragons—a walking, ranting symbol of the measures the golden dragons had been willing to take in the name of protecting "peace." Filia would have to accept that soon and it would shatter much about the world she knew. Of course that would leave her feeling rather thoughtful and conflicted.

…That was scarcely a good enough reason for some back-alley soothsayer to start making not-at-all-educated guesses about a romantic connection between the two of them.

"Sure," Miss Placenta allowed, "but that's how it starts."

Xellos leaned forward, eyeing the crystal ball which showed his host things that he could not see. "Why not put that to the test, then?" he asked confidently. "Look farther into the future—five or so years down the line—and see if this 'start' has amounted to anything."

She grit her tea-stained teeth together. "Oh, but I'm much more of a near-future kind of psychic," she explained. "Looking too far into the future always gives me a headache. Everything goes all funhouse mirror-like and blurry. It's not easy, you know?"

"That must be a hazard in your job," Xellos said pointedly, as though reminding her of what exactly her job description was.

She let out a hefty sigh. "Fine. I'll look," she relented, flexing her fingers outward and loosening out her wrists before she drew her attention back to the crystal ball.

She swiped at the thing as though sweeping through pages. Every so often she'd mutter things like, "No…" or "Not yet…" or "What?" or "A talking jar?" before she finally seemed to be satisfied that she'd reached the correct point. She closed one eye in a look that was more about focus than coquetry.

"Nope," she finally announced, having made her analysis. "Bad news for you. She ends up with the other guy."

Xellos opened his mouth to protest. By all accounts, Valgaav wasn't even likely to be _around_ in several years' time, let alone be a romantic interest of Filia's. "What makes you say that?" he asked.

Miss Placenta shrugged. "The signal's really clear," she said. "All those confused emotions have cleared up and unified into one. Even a colorblind person can tell that she loves him."

"Pardon me if I'm a bit skeptical of your ability to discern between emotions," Xellos answered with a slight scoff. "Surely, if you're only able to perceive the tint of the aura spectrum, there are many similarly shaded emotions that you could be mixing up with love. Perhaps pity or nostalgia or—"

"He's in her bed," Miss Placenta said bluntly.

When there was no reply after several moments, Miss Placenta looked up from her crystal ball and to her client. "You okay, buddy?" she asked, genuinely concerned as she eyed his expression.

"I'm fine," he answered, a forceful emphasis on "I'm" to indicate that someone else was the one with the problem, "but I'm afraid you must've made a mistake."

"I'm not wrong just because the future's showing something _you_ don't like," Miss Placenta replied, a little offended.

"This isn't about what I like," Xellos answered with just a hint of sharpness in his voice. "I couldn't care less who she ends up with. But what you're suggesting is just impossible."

He leveled himself into a standing position with his staff and gave a little put-upon sigh. "I should've known this would be a waste of time, but I didn't honestly expect that you'd make the prediction at the temple of marriage look legitimate by comparison."

Miss Placenta furrowed her pale brow. "What are you talking about?"

"No matter," Xellos said, more to himself than her. "It killed time. Now I have more pressing issues to attend to."

Miss Placenta stood up. "Now, hold on just a minute," she said. "You're not going anywhere until you've paid me for—"

…But he was gone. She hadn't even seen him dash for the door. He'd just vanished.

She might've been more concerned about a client showing such supernatural ability if she didn't have other things on her mind. She ground her fist into her forehead. "I knew I should've got cash from that one up front," she derided herself.

* * *

Unbelievable.

Of all the responses he could've possibly expected to receive from his second-opinion psychic, Xellos reflected as he rematerialized beside a river not far from Mt. Coronay, _that_ was not even one he'd considered. She could've confirmed the temple of marriage's prediction, saying that Filia was indeed meant for him, born from the misperception that that was what he wanted to hear. She could've contradicted it, saying that this whole being-paired-up-with-Filia thing was nonsense, accurately realizing that that _was_ what he wanted to hear. But to say Filia was instead going to end up with the renegade ancient dragon currently focusing his attention on a revenge quest against all of them? That was just an off the charts kind of ridiculous.

Yes. The proposed Filia-Valgaav union was _so_ ridiculous, that it made the idea of him, a high ranking member of the monster race, marrying a dragon priestess look reasonable by comparison. At least she had a rapport with him—a sense of familiarity, even if it was one that was so often negative. In any case, there was a certain amount of playfulness to their… would you really call it fighting? More like… jousting. A little exchange to bring something out of the other person. To see what they were capable of and how they could defend themselves. They wouldn't have bothered with it if there wasn't something about the other to discover.

And what did she have with Valgaav? They didn't really even _know_ each other. They were just on opposite sides of this little adventure. All he could feel for her would be contempt—that she was one of the same race that had slaughtered his own. The best she could feel for him was…

Well, perhaps a growing sense of pity, and that was a little worrisome in conjunction with Miss Placenta's claims, Xellos had to admit. Perhaps her internalized guilt could get Filia to trick herself into placing more value upon him than she really should.

What's more, she properly saw Valgaav as a genuine obstacle standing against them—a force to be reckoned with—their foe. Oh, she'd gone through all that nonsense with Xellos as well about how he was the enemy of the golden dragons and killed her people and so on and so forth, but she didn't _treat_ him like a grand and impressive foe. She didn't take him seriously. It could be argued that she took Valgaav seriously, and perhaps saw him as more important as a result of that.

And oh… she had to have had very… restrained interactions with men in the religious environment of the temple, hadn't she? It could well be that her encounter with Valgaav was the first time that Filia had seen abs quite like that.

Xellos frowned.

Of course, it was all a non-issue. He'd get to see to that himself. Very soon he'd have to make the proposal that Valgaav join the monster race, which the former servant of Gaav would surely decline. Then it would be Xellos's task to destroy him. He would not be around for Filia to either transform her pity into love or form any lasting opinions about the ancient dragon's stomach muscles.

Xellos glanced at his reflection in the running river. Filia sleep with Valgaav? A borrowed word from Filia probably best described that prediction: garbage. And soon he'd get a chance to prove that when he rendered that highly questionable prophecy completely impossible.

It would be very soon.

He teleported away to the strange complex sitting on top of a cliff in the distance, sure that the others must have arrived there by this point.

* * *

It was all so easy, looking back on that moment and what had followed it, for Xellos to see the mistakes he'd made—to realize why that job had ended up so thoroughly botched. It came down to motives and pretending that he didn't have them.

Not killing Valgaav immediately when he had the upper hand? That was a big one. He'd let the fight drag on—let it become play. Such a ploy was at least unprofessional against any target, but it was especially foolish against one as desperate and as dangerous as Valgaav. He'd given the ancient dragon time. Time to mount a counterstrike with Ragudo Mezigis and seriously wound him—effectively knocking him out of contention, leaving him fit for little more than hanging limply off of Filia with little ability to reign in the madness that followed.

He'd allowed Filia to be present at the confrontation. He could've easily kept her out of it. He could've caved in the passageway she was going through to block her path. He _knew_ she was going that way because she'd been the one to tip him off about the correct direction (even if she hadn't meant to). He'd let her see him about his business. He'd _wanted_ her to see. To see him as something far more imposing than garbage. To develop respect for him even if she hated him.

He'd used her to casually blow up his half-hearted attempts to persuade Valgaav to his side. There was no chance that the ancient dragon was going to ally with him after witnessing Filia feel so betrayed by him. Nor would he be receptive to the slight at the golden dragons since it so clearly paralleled the monster race's dealing with Gaav.

There was error and there was ego. The latter had caused the former. But perhaps the most humiliating flaw, in retrospect, was the least harmful one. It was all because it wasn't really about what he'd _done_, but how he'd handled it.

Saving Filia. Well, he supposed she was a little too emotionally confused to figure out that dodging falling rocks was a good plan for survival. He'd had to act. Really, there was nothing wrong with acting. It should've been fine. It was his state of mind that was wrong—a state of mind where he felt that this was an act that he had to cover for.

And cover he did! …In an incredibly lame fashion. Dropping her and claiming that he was using her in the stupidest sneak attack in history on an already downed foe was probably not the smoothest reaction that he could've had to saving her life.

It wasn't even necessary. So he'd scooped her out of harm's way? It didn't have to mean anything suspicious. He could've easily made the argument that he thought he might need her alive in the future. Completely reasonable. He could've said _that_ to her. Or he could've passed a comment about the poor survival skills of golden dragons (though that, of course, would've left an opening for a shot at his past history with her race—and yes, he _had_ mapped out how that conversation would've gone if he'd gone that way). Really, he didn't have to say _anything_. He could've just let her wonder why. There was no reason to make excuses.

…The fact that he'd made an excuse made it obvious that there actually was a reason. If there hadn't been, then there wouldn't have been anything to be embarrassed over. And yet he'd behaved in a manner that showed he was embarrassed—that he felt he had something to hide. That might've been lost on Filia, but it was not on Lord Beastmaster and that had _not_ been a fun conversation.

So yes, there had been mistakes. But he was far enough away—years away—from those mistakes to see that they had led them to the point he was at now. With that in mind, it was hard to lament them too much.

Filia turned over beside him, thin white sheets hanging half off of her pajama-clad form in the summer heat. She muttered something about a "stupid monster" in her sleep and then seemed to settle back down.

He smiled. It seemed to him that he made more mistakes whenever Filia was around, but they were mistakes he could live with.

…And, as he strolled down memory lane, it was gratifying to him that he hadn't been the only one making mistakes that day. That batty fortune teller with the unfortunate name had called it so wrong that it was laughable. Perhaps she'd somehow managed to mix up him and Valgaav in the distorted haze of her future sight. What with how the situation with Valgaav had turned out… Well… "romantic rival" seemed a _very_ unlikely role for him to take nowadays.

He looked up. There had been a sound—felt-covered footsteps in the hall. The door to their room opened with a creak and a small figure bounded toward Filia's side of the bed.

"Mommy?" it tried tentatively, pulling with a little hand at the sheet that covered her.

There was a groan as Filia forced her eyes opened and elbowed herself upward into a seated position on the bed. "What is it, Val?" she asked groggily.

"I had a scary dream," the child explained. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Filia rubbed the sleep out of one eye with a sigh. She pulled aside the bed covering. "Climb on up," she said with a little overtired reluctance.

As the reborn ancient dragon crawled into bed and into his adoptive mother's arms, Xellos let out a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Filia asked sharply, perhaps annoyed at the thought of Xellos mocking her child's fear.

"Oh, nothing," Xellos answered lightly, his laugh lingering. "It's just that it seems a prophecy has been fulfilled tonight."


	39. Rivalry

**Rivalry.**

Filia stared down at the smudged ledger where she'd been noting the shop's latest expenses. She turned her hand to the side and sighed, wiping the ink off with a pocket handkerchief. She stood up, tilting her neck this way and that to work out the kinks. That was enough bookkeeping for the day, she decided. She'd better get back to the shop room and help Jillas and Gravos handle the influx of customers. It was a Saturday and things always got a little zooey on the weekends. What was more, she knew many of the town's residents were growing concerned about the agitated rumblings of military intervention out of the capital. Even though it would almost certainly turn out to be nothing more than pointless posturing, she knew for a fact that several of the town's more excitable residents would be considering upgrading their brick-in-a-sock or bat-with-a-nail-in-it security systems to something a little more refined. She'd need to be there to help them make the most informed decision vis-à-vis melee weaponry.

That mindset left her understandably confused when she stepped out into the showroom and saw Gravos and Jillas engrossed in a card game without so much as a single customer in sight to attend to.

"…Where is everyone?" Filia asked, leaning forward to see around the shelves in the hopes that she'd missed at least one little old lady eyeing the vases.

"Don't know, Boss," Jillas piped up, tossing a card down onto the discard pile. "It's weird. Nobody's been in all day."

"Did we… forget to turn over the 'closed' sign?" Filia asked, eyebrows drawing together.

"No way," Gravos said, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna miss something dat basic."

"Well…" Filia said, shifting her weight awkwardly from one foot to another. "I guess I'll go double-check just in case. I'm not sure what else could be the problem…"

She strode toward the front of the store, but completely neglected to check the sign (unnecessary since the "open" side was proudly facing the street) as she saw a crowd gathered just outside. But they weren't waiting to get into her shop—oh no. There were countless familiar figures pushing and shoving to get into the place across the street and a steady stream of people spilling out of the doors with paper shopping bags in hand.

…Of course, none of that made any sense to Filia because, as far as she was aware, the lot across the street had been empty ever since that meat pie shop went out of business a year ago.

"I'll umm…" Filia said absentmindedly, pushing the door open to the accompaniment of a bell chiming, "…I'll be right back," she finished, stepping outside and navigating cannily through the throng.

* * *

Filia stared at the wares on the shelves, an inevitable glumness stealing over her. She'd had to fight through quite a few people to get into the building just to even have a chance of _seeing_ what it sold and finally she'd arrived to see _this_.

Polished wooden handles crowned with spiked, metallic balls. Some were attached by chains and some were just tips on the ends of clubs. She sold many like those in her shop through her line of maces. But now they were flying off, not her shelves, but those of some interloper.

_Why?_ The place was crawling with eager customers and yet, beyond the place's "new" factor, she couldn't for the life of her explain why. In fact, she found even standing inside of it profoundly unappealing. The room stank and the air was heavy with smoke that made her eyes sting. The source of the atmosphere was obvious as soon as she set her eyes on several squat old men lounging in leather chairs in a less crowded nook of the store, smoking cigars with a look of utter contentment.

A pair of glass doors leading to a walk-in pantry stuffed with wooden boxes opened, sending a blast of damp air in her direction. She turned to see a person walking out of the storeroom that she should've expected to see as soon as anything even slightly troublesome happened.

"Ah, Filia, I see you've come out to check on the competition," he said.

Most of his look was the same—certainly the omnipresent smug style was there. But, slightly oddly, he was wearing a red silk-lined jacket that tied around his waist like a robe over his yellow turtleneck instead of his usual black cloak. In his hand was a lit cigar, which overpowered his normally neutral scent with one of foul, burning licorice.

"Xellos!" Filia yelled in his direction. "So _you're_ responsible for this?"

"Partly," Xellos admitted, unabashed. "But, really, I think most of the credit goes to you."

Filia was nearly shoved to the side by a particularly enthusiastic customer trying to get into the room beyond, but she stood her ground. "Me?" she asked, struggling to keep her balance. "Why me?"

"Well," Xellos said, gesturing out the window to her lonely little shop across the street, "I noticed how well your 'Vases and Maces' store was doing and I started thinking that the 'innocuous item paired with rhyming weapon' business might be a lucrative one to get into. And that is how 'Fine Cigars and Morning Stars' was born."

"_Fine Cigars and Morning Stars?!_" Filia repeated through clenched teeth.

"Oh yes," Xellos confirmed happily. "I went through a couple of different concepts, truth be told: 'Ornamental Spoons and Harpoons,' 'Buckles and Brass Knuckles,' 'Pickles and Sickles,' 'Gourds and Broadsword,' but eventually I decided on 'Fine Cigars and Morning Stars' and, lo and behold, here it is."

If Filia had her druthers, it would _not_ have been there and it certainly would not have been as crawling with _her_ customers as it was. "What on _earth_ would you even want to open up a store for?" she demanded. "You don't need money! You don't need to eat! You don't need to sleep! You don't _need_ to be in my way like this!"

He studied her as though she was some rare, but temperamental species. "I'm not 'in your way,'" he scoffed. "And even I have expenses to deal with. Surely not even you would begrudge me a little financial security in these trying times?"

Filia had been begrudging him from day one and wasn't about to stop any time soon—especially since she'd gotten so good at it.

"Well, you can get your 'financial stability' somewhere else!" she informed him. "This is my town and I already sell morning stars."

"Ah, but after careful research," he said, taking a puff of the nasty thing—probably more to show off his wares than out of any personal inclination—"I've come to the conclusion that the citizens of Achaea are unusually fond of bludgeoning implements. There could be no better place for me to set up shop."

"Careful research?" Filia repeated, one of her blonde eyebrows starting to twitch. "Is that what you call making a nuisance of yourself around my shop? People like maces because of the ones I sell! Stop trying to glom off my hard work!"

"I wasn't glomming," Xellos replied, having the nerve to sound like she was being hurtful.

"You were!" Filia insisted with a childish stamp of her foot. "You copied my idea and set up shop right across the street just to take my customers away and sabotage my livelihood! You are literally stealing food from my son's mouth!"

"I wouldn't say that," he said, shrugging with the cigar between his fingers. "It's more like I'm keeping you from spoiling him too much."

Filia was about to open her mouth to respond when he decided he wasn't done. "In any case, this kind of set-up is the most beneficial thing for your customers, Filia. You may selfishly want to hold a monopoly on blunt force weaponry so that you can set whatever price you want, but competition is really what's required to ensure fairness. If we have to guard against each other then there will be an incentive to put out the highest quality, lowest priced product that we're able to. Isn't that what's best for the customer?"

"Best for them?" Filia asked, waving a hand around to clear the immediate area of smoke. "This is a cigar shop! You're outright _peddling_ dirty habits! What are the kids who come through here going to think? And if you get them smoking, then what's that going to lead to?" Realization dawned on her face and she took one step back. "That's what this is all about, isn't it?" she asked, shaking with rage. "You're trying to corrupt the people of Achaea and lead our children into dangerous vices!"

Xellos blew a smoke ring as coolly as he could. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't match Lord Beastmaster's skill. It just wasn't his thing.

"You know I could say the exact same thing about your business, don't you?" he asked as the shape of the ring dissipated into the air. Lord Beastmaster's smoke rings tended to stick around so she could make them into a chain once she had enough, but Filia didn't need to know how outclassed he was.

She stared at him for a moment. "We both sell maces, so unless you're trying to claim that _vases_ are somehow on the same level as cig—"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Xellos cut her off, pointing the cigar at her in triumph.

"…Explain," Filia requested after a moment. She honestly wanted to see what sort of insane bullshit he was going to have to come up with to justify this.

"Of course, it starts with one vase and that seems harmless enough," Xellos began thoughtfully. "But then it's, 'Oh, I must get more for different seasons or just in case I decided to redecorate' and 'Well, I can't very well go to Wonder Island and _not_ get a souvenir, now can I?' and 'Just _one more_ for my collection.' Then, before you know it, a full-blown addiction is born. Ceramic knickknacks are everywhere—so many that you can't even walk. So many that the house is clogged with dust. And obviously, vases are just the gateway drug to things like dish sets and figures and, worst of all, souvenir mugs." Xellos shrugged. "Then again, you are a dragon, so perhaps you're pro-hording."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Filia informed him. She put her hands on her hips and leaned in to glare at him. "_And_ it's a negative stereotype! I never horde!"

Xellos grinned knowingly. "I've _seen_ your horde, Filia."

Filia took a step back. "What? What are you—"

"That drawer of shiny things you're holding onto?" Xellos reminded her, waving a tut-tutting finger at her. "Classically it should be gold, but I understand you're not rich enough to partake in that tradition."

Filia nearly growled. "Those are for art projects—_idiot!"_

"Trying to rationalize your problem isn't going to make it go away."

She pointed at him, her finger just an inch away from his nose. "_You're_ the one with the problem, Xellos! Because all this," she said, gesturing to the crowd with her other hand, "is not going to last! Your novelty will wear off soon and then people will realize that they could be buying quality merchandize at my place instead of settling for your inferior copies! And _then_ you'll be out of business!"

Xellos leaned his head back and around to avoid her pointing finger. "Well," he said, as though all of this was very unfortunate, "I had hoped we could coexist as friendly business rivals, but if you insist on playing it like this then that's just the way it's going to have to be."

"That _is_ the way it's going to be," Filia said, argumentative despite the fact that she was essentially agreeing with him. She swept over to the exit and turned back to shout. "I'll take you down, Xellos! Mark my words!"

He waved pleasantly at her as she left. "I look forward to it."

* * *

Filia cupped her chin in her hands, her elbows resting against the counter next to the lately disused cash register. "What more are we supposed to do to get people in here?" she asked despairingly.

They were in the midst of the shareholders' meeting—well, sort of. The only shareholders were herself, Jillas and Gravos. Normally if they were going to have any kind of meeting they'd have done it in the wee hours of the morning before they opened or after closing. Now there was very little need to make time for something like that. Working hours had been so desolate the last couple of days that they were striving to find ways to fill them.

"I still say we should lower our prices again," Gravos answered. He was sitting the same way he always did on chairs designed for humans: very, _very_ carefully. "People know they can get something cheaper just across the street, so they ain't even gonna waste their time with us."

"We've already lowered them as much as we should," Filia disagreed. They'd had this conversation before. "Xellos's stuff is cheaper because it's shoddier. It's just low-bid garbage he's order from somewhere else. _My_ maces are handmade and use only the finest materials. You've got to pay for that quality."

Gravos shrugged his expansive shoulders. "Yeah, but people don't seem to wanna."

"I got an idea," Jillas announced chipperly, turning away from dusting the vases. He gestured excitedly with the rag he was holding. "We could do a fireworks show—right over the shop! That'd bring people out 'ere no problem!"

Filia and Gravos exchanged wary looks. "Xellos's shop is right across the street," Filia pointed out. "If we did a show then there's no reason why people couldn't just watch it from there. It doesn't actually help us." This wasn't the _real_ reason she didn't want Jillas fussing around with pyrotechnics, but it was a valid one.

Jillas paused, appearing to give this some thought. Finally he came out with: "Well then, we could set 'em off _inside_ the sh—"

"_No,_" Filia said firmly.

"Not dat I'm saying dat's a good idea, 'cause it ain't," Gravos went on, giving Jillas a sharp look, "but we gotta do _something_ to change things." He held his large hands up in a shrug. "If dis is just people being all excited about a new store and dat dies down so they wind up comin' back here—it's fine. But if dis is just how things are gonna be from now on…" He shook his head. "We'd be better off going somewhere else where we can make a real living."

Filia frowned. "Let Xellos drive us out of town?" she said, more to herself than to Gravos. "No…"

But she knew why Gravos said it. It was a thought she'd tried to drive out of her mind the last few long, empty days running the shop. This town was more to her than a place to run her business. She'd put down roots, made… well, if not friends then familiar acquaintances. If she had to leave then she'd be forced to start over. Not only that, but she'd have to put Val in a whole different school—take him away from his friends and the sense of stability he had. She couldn't do that to him. She couldn't risk his happiness in this second chance he had at a real childhood.

Her expression soured further. What's more, she realized, trying to get away probably wouldn't even work out if it came to that. Houses had been slow to sell lately in Achaea. In her area alone she had several neighbors who had been trying to move on—to seek out a bigger city or to downsize after their children had left the nest—but forced to hold onto their property and slowly slash their asking prices lower and lower. Nobody was buying. She couldn't take a loss both on her shop _and_ her house all for a chance to move to some mythical, Xellos-free zone where she had customers again. Not when there was always that horrible chance that he could follow her.

A tinkling of the bell on the door snagged all of their attentions as a middle-aged man toting a shopping bag walked inside. He lingered by the smaller vases, an expression of concentration on his face as he rested his chin in the crook between his thumb and index finger. Filia, Gravos and Jillas all froze as they watched him. It was as though a rabbit had scampered into the den of a famished hunter and there was a moment of uncertainty as to how to deal with the opportunity. Was it better to remain perfectly still, so as not to spook this prey? Or should they strike now that they finally had the chance?

"Umm… can I help you?" Filia asked carefully.

"Hmmm?" the man mumbled, looking up at her. "Oh no. I'm just browsing."

A tense few minutes followed as the browser picked up pieces of pottery, examined them, and placed them back on the shelf in disinterest. Suddenly Filia was second-guessing her every creation. What kind of impression did that one leave? The colors weren't right on that one… Do you think he noticed the unevenness around the base? In this newly desperate environment she found herself crippled with doubt as to whether any one of her works could woo customers back to her aisles.

Her heart truly sank when he picked up a piece she'd had serious reservations about putting out in the first place. It was a plain little bowl and far too shallow to be of much use. The wide mouth was dimpled oddly and, all in all, it just wasn't a very attractive piece—a victim of her distraction. She'd only decided to put it out at all in case someone needed a cheap ingredients bowl. But with the new, higher standards of the day, she felt sure that the man would decide her work by that example and never come back.

That was why it was such a surprise when he snatched the little bowl up, marched over to the counter and said: "I'll take this."

"O-of course," Filia managed to get out, taking the piece in her hand. She broke into a relieved smile and began tapping the relevant information into her cash register. "And what are you planning on using this for?" she asked, by way of some pleasant small talk.

The man patted the shopping bag he'd come in with. "Got a box of cigars across the street and I figure that'll make the perfect ashtray."

There was a cold and terrible silence.

"…Is something wrong, Miss?" the man asked.

Gravos got up, lumbered over and took the destined-to-be ashtray from Filia's motionless hands. "I can take ya over here," he said, directing the customer to the second register.

Filia hadn't moved from her mortified position even after the chime of the bell signaled the man's departure with his newly purchased cigar receptacle. Jillas exchanged a look with Gravos, full of cautious promise. "'ey Boss Gravos?" he began. "Are you thinkin' what oi'm think—"

"No!" Filia cried, shaking herself out of catatonia. "I will not rebrand my vases as ashtrays for Xellos's disgusting cigars! I WON'T ALLOW IT!"

"But then we wouldn't 'ave to worry about competin' wit' 'im 'cause we'd 'ave…" Jillas snapped his fingers, trying to think of the right word "…synergy!"

"I refuse to have synergy with Xellos!" Filia exploded, breaking away from the counter area to look—or, rather, glare—out the front window.

It was insane. _How_ was his shop staying so busy? Yes, a new store was exciting and it had been awhile since the line-up on the main street had changed. Yes, there was now a place to buy cigars where there had never been one before. But, as she stared across the street at Xellos happily handing out coupons to customers as they walked over, she couldn't help but think it was impossible to rationalize away all of the store's popularity. For example…

"_Where_ have all our female customers gone? That's what I'd like to know," Filia commented, her voice tired. "I was counting on them to pull us through this."

The majority of customers who purchased from her pottery collection had always been female, and it wasn't as though she was competing with Xellos on those. She couldn't imagine too many ladies being very interested in those nasty smelling cigars. That just left the maces and, as much as Filia had endeavored to change this, she'd never been able to persuade many of Achaea's women that spiked bludgeoning implements were perfectly ladylike.

"It must just be because Xellos stocks a lot of lighter flails that are easier to manage," Filia reasoned. Her eyes narrowed as he passed an introductory coupon to an attractive young woman who giggled as she took it. "Yes, that must be it," she affirmed. She raised the volume of her voice and added severely: "I can think of _no other reason_ whatsoever!"

"Who're you yellin' at, Boss?" Jillas asked worriedly. If they were being chewed out for something he'd have liked to know why.

Filia didn't answer. She was far too focused on the fact that Xellos had turned his attention away from the throng of people around his shop and over to her—visibly watching him from the window. Filia responded by jerkily pulling at the chord to draw the blinds down, turning aside and fighting to catch her breath. After a moment she finally looked back to peek through the shutters.

He was coming toward the shop.

Filia raced back up the main aisle and hopped back behind the counter. "Look busy!" she hissed at her two employees.

Gravos held out his pale green hands. "With what?" he asked.

Filia ignored him. She was too busy grabbing a clipboard and scrawling on it like someone so drowned in orders that they could not be bothered to deal with monsters. In reality, all she was noting down was a tornado of pointless scribbles.

She purposefully kept her eyes focused on the incomprehensible jottings as the bell sounded again—it had rung twice that day. Sadly, more times than it had in the last few days. She only looked up when a shadow fell over her and, when she did, did her best to look nonchalant yet annoyed.

"Oh, it's you," she said sourly.

Xellos placed a gloved hand on the wooden countertop and leaned forward. "I'd think with how slow business has been for you the last couple of days that you'd be much friendlier to visitors."

"Well, you thought wrong," Filia retorted. Because he was right in front of her and her every instinct was to swipe at him she added: "And has no one told you to stop wearing that stupid thing yet?"

He looked down at the silken smoking jacket he was wearing, gesturing to it with his other hand. "You mean this? What's wrong with it?"

"It makes you look sleazy," she struck out, venom in her tone. "…Or at least sleazier than usual."

Xellos let out an annoyed breath. He'd been going for suave and sophisticated.

"And to think, I came here to offer a helping hand," he said, shaking his head.

Filia snorted. "I'll believe it when I see it!"

"I was thinking," he said, ignoring her skepticism, "that there is some… overlap in our businesses, after all"—Filia would've cut in to say this was because he'd purposefully copied her, but he went on—"and it might be a savvier move to be allies instead of enemies."

Filia stared at him.

He returned the stare with his familiar closed eyes smile. "We _could_ be partners," he ventured.

Filia's jaw slid open. _Partners_. _Her and Xellos. Horrifying._

"W-what about that whole thing about competition being better for the consumer?" Filia asked mockingly, her nostrils flaring up at the unpleasant proposal.

"Well," Xellos began, shrugging his shoulders expansively, "that is one way of looking at it. But perhaps what's really best for consumers is for retailers such as you and I to be able to pool our resources to bring them the best quality and variety of products at the greatest convenience we are able to."

In Filia's mind this excuse translated itself to something like: _Screw the consumer. Join me! With my charisma and your expert craftsmanship, we can rule the weaponry/pottery/smokables markets as franchiser and franchisee!_

"If that's true"—and Filia doubted this was anything more than an excuse to insultingly absorb her hard work into his lazy-but-inexplicably-successful business—"then that's a shame for them," Filia said, crossing her arms. "Because I'd rather go bankrupt than join with the likes of you!"

There was a meager eye twitch from him, but it didn't seem like this response was terribly unexpected. "Ooh, what a shame," he said, almost overflowing with insincerity as he straightened up and withdrew his hand from the counter. "Because, if events continue at their current pace, that's exactly what it's going to come to."

"Not a chance!" Filia retorted. It was her turn to lean across the counter toward him now that he'd pulled himself back. She slammed both hands down on it. "I've got something up my sleeve that'll stop you in your tracks! Just you wait!"

Her fiery pronouncement was somewhat undone when Jillas dropped his dusting rag in surprise and said, "You do, Boss? Why didn't you tell us?"

Xellos snickered. "I recall hearing something like this before. I didn't see any of that promised marketing genius from you—unless you want to call a little bit of grudging price reduction a master strategy."

"It's different this time," Filia insisted, shooting Jillas a warning look. Damn it! Real plans could be thought of later! Right now it was more important to rise to the challenge. "You won't be laughing when you see what I have in store…"

* * *

"Get'chore maces! GET'CHORE LOVERLY MACES! Special sale today only!"

The shouts echoed through the streets. Even if one of the main street's passersby had been blissfully unable to hear the cockney hollering then they'd still have been forced to come face to face with Jillas's message. He wore two sheets of poster board over his regular clothes so a large sign fell over both his front and back. In black marker a neat, but hurried hand had written: "Filia's Vases and Maces: Voted #1 in last year's issue of Armory Barn!" on the front and "Quality merchandise at affordable prices!" on the back.

"A fox in a sandwich board sign," Xellos commented from the shade of the awning outside of Filia's shop. "Now why didn't I think of that?"

"Shut up," Filia muttered from next to him. That lifesaving, eleventh hour idea had never shown up. She'd had to make do with what she had… and she didn't have very much.

"'ey you! Oi! Listen to me!" Jillas bellowed, tugging at the coat of a man who had been heading toward Xellos's shop. "Don't you think you oughta be gettin' a gift for your dear old mum? She'd like a nice flower vase, she would! Least you can do, really!"

"Even seeing as you obviously have things well under control," Xellos said, mockingly chipper as Jillas's subject tried to slip away from him, "I feel the need to let you know that my offer still stands."

"You can keep your offer to yourself!" Filia shot back, rounding on him. "I'd rather die!"

"Got a duel comin' up? When you're bashing the other bloke's 'ead in, you wanna make sure you're doing it with quality equipment!"

"That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?" Xellos commented, raising an eyebrow and trying to ignore Jillas's excellent sales pitch.

From where Filia was standing it most certainly wasn't. Ceding part of the business that she'd built with her blood, sweat and—Okay, not blood, but certainly sweat and tears!—to Xellos was despicable. What's more, she got the uncomfortable impression that the kind of "partnership" Xellos had in mind would be more in the realm of 70-30 than 50-50, and the idea of having Xellos be her _boss_ was just unthinkable.

"In case you haven't noticed, we don't exactly work together well," she hissed at him. "It would be a complete and utter nightmare!"

"…I thought it would be fun," he begged to differ.

"Well, of course, _you'd_ think it'd fun," Filia snapped. "You think _everything_ that makes me miserable or drives me insane is fun!" She waved an arm toward his shop across the street. "That's the whole reason you bothered to do this, after all." She turned back to glare at him out of the corner of her eye. "You'd think you'd have better things to do with your time than pick on me."

"That's a bit of a self-centered assessment, don't you think?" Xellos asked, trying to inject some fairness into the conversation. "You think everything I do is directly intended to annoy you."

"That's because it is!" Filia replied, having to shout over Jillas's entreaties to by maces "while they're 'ot!"

Xellos clucked his tongue in mild irritation. "No, Filia. It's not," he said patiently. "I did not make a very large investment in setting up a business purely to get your attention. I have a purpose in mind for my profits."

"And what is that?" Filia demanded. "No matter what you say, you don't need the money."

Xellos grinned. Filia saw him taking on a familiar posture and, with a sinking feeling, knew what was coming. "That is a secret," he answered, wagging his finger at her.

Filia groaned, but this little catchphrase wasn't destined to be the last irritation she had to face on that street.

"Get'chore vases an' maces now for the greatest variety!" Jillas chanted out into the crowd. "Don't wait for the going out o' business sale!"

Filia let her face fall into her hands. It was better than looking at Xellos's smug expression.

* * *

Filia walked out into the darkened streets, locking her shop door behind her. It had been lonely the last few hours keeping the lamps lit and finding long undone filing to keep her occupied. She'd let Gravos and Jillas have the rest of the day off. With so few customers there was just no point in them staying. What's more, Jillas had worked hard trying to drum up sales. …He'd worked badly and produced no positive results, but it couldn't have been denied that he put a lot of effort into it. He deserved a break.

Filia suppressed a yawn. This was later than they usually stayed open, but she'd held out some small sliver of hope that if she kept later hours then a few of Xellos's customers, still seized by mace-mania, would deign to come to her shop after his shut its doors. So she'd asked Gravos and Jillas to pick up Val from school and watch him while she worked the night shift.

It hadn't worked. No real surprise there. But she'd had to try.

The street looked so desolate at that time of night. It had been packed with people just that afternoon, but in the dark of night… not a soul was around. She spied to her right the sandwich board sign that Jillas had been wearing earlier—discarded and half submerged in a puddle from a spell of evening rain so that its markered letters ran.

She leaned against the door of her shop and was thankful that, if nothing else, no one was around to hear her ask: "…What am I going to do?"

She turned her gaze to the shop that had caused all the trouble—Xellos's shop. Unlike hers with its frayed awnings and faded paint and streaked glass, his was brand new. They were shabby by comparison—her shop and herself.

A strange, glazed look came over her eyes as she stared at Xellos's shop—as though seeing it suddenly in a new light.

"Such a lovely building," she murmured to herself. "It would be a shame if something were to happen to it…"

* * *

"What do you mean you have 'dragon insurance?!'" Filia cried, thunderstruck.

Xellos was perched on top of a demolished slab of concrete, his bearing more in the manner of someone who'd won a prize than someone whose place of business had been reduced to a few splinters of wood and ash. She'd gone over there to lord his loss over him, perhaps in the form of some insincere sympathy—after all, it's what he would've done—but then she got closer and saw that _look_ on his face and those awful two words explained why.

"Well, obviously I do, Filia," he answered easily, getting up. "No businessman operating so close to a dragon would be without such essential protection."

Filia's jaw flexed as she tried to make a response. The fact that this actually seemed to be a real _thing_ and his implication that the rest of her neighbors had the same policy… well, did people just not trust her or something?

"Are you implying that I did this?" she demanded, summoning from the depths of her soul all the false outrage of the accused that she could muster.

Xellos gestured to the peculiarly shaped crater they were in the midst of. "We're standing in one of your footprints."

Filia bit her lip. "Th-that could've been from any dragon. I'm not the only one in the world, you know." She crossed her arms. "That's circumstantial evidence! Just because I happen to be a dragon and happen to have a store across the street doesn't mean that I'm automatically responsible for this!"

"…And even if I was," Filia added, striking out wildly, "I… have been known to sleepwalk! So I'd of course have no memory of the event nor any responsibility for it!"

"Of course," Xellos replied, all too understanding for her comfort. "And, in any case, dragon insurance doesn't work that way—seeking out a perpetrator and demanding payment for damages. It would be rather like trying to track down a hurricane or a tornado and asking it for reimbursement." He held out his hands in a gesture of helpless acceptance. "It's clear that there's no point in expecting such wild creatures to control their petulant rage."

A muscle in her cheek quivered without her bidding it to move and she clenched her fists. She hated it when he referred to her as though she were some sort of mindless killing machine.

"In any case, there's no real harm done," Xellos continued, oblivious to her simmering fury. "The insurance company will cover all the damages, and it won't be long before…" he trailed off, eyeing the passersby stopping to look at the wreckage, before he finished in a much louder voice, "we have our grand reopening sale!"

The milling pedestrians broke into applause at this dangled prospect. Filia stalked away, nearly tripping over a laser breath-barbequed slab of timber in the process.

* * *

Filia sighed and got up off her front doorstep. She'd thought staying home and relaxing for the day while Jillas and Gravos took care of the shop would give her a chance to clear her head and find a way out of this mess, but it just wasn't working. The little gains they'd managed to make back with Xellos out of commission were being taken away once again in the face of that promised grand reopening sale.

She walked down the slope of her front lawn with the intent of heading for her shop. She'd probably be just as useless there as she was at home, but at least she could be useless with Gravos and Jillas alongside her.

Her eyes fell on the "For Sale by Owner" sign in the yard of the house next door. It had been there for so long, like too many others in the neighborhood. Filia had a nasty premonition that hers would be next. If she couldn't beat Xellos then there was little other choice but to leave—to run away from this town with her tail between her legs and to pray to the gods that Xellos didn't open up a new branch across the street from wherever she ended up doing business.

But she desperately hoped there was a way to avoid this. Of course… there _was_. She knew there was. More than one, really. But both were almost too awful to consider.

She could bite the bullet and do what Gravos and Jillas wanted to; to quit fighting against Xellos and instead try to monetize the new needs he created; to say goodbye to the vase and mace-making business and instead dive headfirst into the repellant and depressing world of ashtrays and air fresheners.

…And then there was Xellos's solution which managed to somehow be even _worse_ than that.

Her mood was stormy as she cut through the park on the way to the main street, and the sights she saw there did nothing to improve her mood. The scent of tobacco lingered in the air as several people blew wisps of smoke, rolling the fat bundles between their fingers as they prepared to take another drag.

On the paved area by the fountain, a couple older boys were playfully jousting with spiked clubs—not, of course, her make. That was the biggest heartbreak, really—not that Xellos was eating into her profits, but that he was tricking people into buying inferior products. She put so much time and care and thought into making her maces that it stung to see crowds of people going out of their way to buy mass-produced fare from whatever big city company focused only on its bottom line that Xellos was ordering his stuff from.

Maybe people thought that there wasn't a difference, but Filia knew better. Xellos's weren't weighted properly, and would tarnish and break with time and constant force. Then again, Filia couldn't help but think that might be all part of Xellos's master plan. He'd sell people products that he knew full well couldn't stand the test of time, and then collect more money when they eventually broke and a replacement needed to be bought. Genius—in a completely repulsive sort of way.

She stopped in her tracks, a light coming to her eyes. She dawdled for a moment there in the park—the sounds of water sprinkling from the spigots along the edge of the fountain, the children's playful yells, and the smokers' coughs faded into the background.

Filled with renewed purpose, she raced ahead.

* * *

"I challenge you to a fight!"

The words immediately superseded the hum of activity in the shop, as every eye turned to the young woman who had dramatically pushed her way through the front door.

Xellos held a hand to his head, narrowly avoiding singeing his hair with one of his lit wares. He didn't dignify Filia, standing their determinedly trying to catch her breath, with a direct look. His posture suggested embarrassment—though not for himself.

"Filia," he said, his voice moderate and pleasant as his customers listened on, "I realize that as a golden dragon you may be used to settling all of your disputes with violence, but in this case—"

"No! It's not even like that," she spat in response, marching closer to him with her fists clenched. "This isn't about _us_ fighting." Much as she hated to admit it, in a real match-up between the two of them, she would always lose. "This is about our maces."

"I assumed a weapon would be involved," he countered dispassionately.

She pointed a shaky finger. "But this is _not_ about me bashing your head in with my mace or vice versa!" No matter how much she dearly wanted to give that a try on certain occasions. "This is mace vs. mace! A mace-off!"

The crowd muttered to itself in a mixture of confusion and excitement.

"You can talk all you want about competition," Filia went on, "but the fact is that Achaea doesn't _need_ two shops that sell maces! So I say we quit trying to compete based on things that don't matter and put our work to the test."

She was relishing this. He clearly didn't want to go head to head. She _could_ beat him! She just had to change the venue.

"You can pick any model that you sell, and I'll use an equivalent from my shop," she went on, laying it all out. "We'll put them up against each other and see which one breaks first."

"And?" he prompted, daring her to get to the bottom line.

She took a deep breath. "…And the loser will have to close up shop in Achaea," she said.

Xellos raised his eyebrows as the crowd gasped appreciatively. He held up his gloved hand for examination as though he could possibly check his nails through silk. "Overly dramatic as usual," he appraised. "And what reason do I have for involving myself in this? I'm not one for brawls, Filia."

This was true. He _was_ one for horrifying stabbings and bringing about magical genocide with frightening ease. But bare knuckles and the smacks of truncheons weren't his scene. Somehow, she couldn't help but categorize his violence as being less honest and down-to-earth than hers.

"If you _don't_ show up tomorrow at noon in front of our shops to face me, then everyone here will know that you were scared because my products are better after all," Filia shouted, making eye contact with a few choice ex-customers. "And they'll tell their friends and their friends' friends that your shop sells second rate merchandise!"

She rushed out of the shop almost as abruptly as she'd rushed in. The slam of the door followed the yell of: "I _better_ see you tomorrow!"

* * *

"So that's what you're going to be using?" Filia asked, getting ready to square off.

Xellos stood a few paces from her in the center of the street. A crowd had encircled the both of them, which seemed to be ready for, if not blood, then at least some hot mace on mace action. He held in his hands a slender metallic club, with a bit of perfunctory detailing along the shaft, and a bulb on top with short spikes. She'd hoped against hope that he'd pick a bulky enough mace that she could use her personal weapon to bring him down, but that didn't seem to be in the cards.

"Yes," Xellos said, hefting the thing so the steel head was in his palm. "This will do."

Filia turned to Jillas, who hastily opened a velvet-lined case full of a variety of maces. She was sure she had one that was close enough in design to make a good match. Spotting one, she easily lifted it out of its slot.

She turned back to Xellos with it, swinging it lightly in front of her to test its weight and characteristics. He watched her, calmly—all too calmly. If he thought having the crowd on his side would help him out then he was dead wrong. This was about craft, not charm. And she knew that hers was superior.

"Why don't we make this more interesting?" she suggested, on a sudden jolt of inspiration.

Xellos cocked his head to the side curiously. "We're putting both our businesses at stake here, Filia. How much more interesting do you need it to be?"

He had a point. Nevertheless, if she was trying to solve her problems with this fight, then there was another annoyance she wanted to clear away.

"I was thinking that if I win, you should never wear that ridiculous smoking jacket ever again," she said. This fight was about which of their products would break first, so she couldn't _really_ smack him. But she could at least do so verbally.

He looked more doubtful than insulted. "…Is this some variant of strip poker that I'm not familiar with?" he asked, as though he was pretty sure that he was familiar with _all_ the strip poker variants. "And, if so, what article of clothing will _you_ be wagering?"

She grimaced. _Why_ did he always have to take things the wrong way?

"Never mind," she said, her voice heightening. "I've decided things are interesting enough already."

He smiled. "If you say so, Filia."

They marched off to opposite sides of the ring of people. Filia _knew_ that Xellos was better at the stare-down than her. Nobody she knew could pull off a more unsettling look. But he wasn't giving her his A-game. Just his usual agreeable, insincere grin. She answered with a scowl.

Gravos walked into the middle of the street. He held up his hands for quiet. "Now dis here is gonna be a clean fight," he declared. "Weapon contact is the only thing dat counts. Dat means no magic, no biting, no hair-pulling, no eye-gouging, no smacking upside the head, no wrestling holds, no bone-breaking, no nutshots—"

"We get it already!" Filia shouted.

Gravos stepped back, to the edge of the crowd. "The fight starts now!" he declared. "Stand back if ya don't want a concussion!"

If anyone in the crowd had considered staying close to get a good view of the action, they immediately reconsidered when they heard Filia's war cry and saw her sprinting toward Xellos with her weapon raised. The screeching probably wasn't doing anything to improve her form—Xellos certainly wasn't joining in—but it gave her confidence and that counted for something.

Xellos seemed confident enough without that kind of belligerent display. He didn't even run to get momentum. Instead he just lifted up his mace at the very last second before Filia struck in a loud clang of metal hitting metal.

His smile was even more unpleasant so close to her face, but she did her best to ignore that. She had to push against him with all her might.

It was disheartening to know that all her might—so much compared to the average human—was nothing to Xellos. She could never be stronger than him; she was too mortal. He was unstoppable, immovable, and even if he babied her, she could never win against him.

…But that was okay, because this wasn't _about_ her strength against his strength. This was about which one of their maces could withstand the most. She _knew_ her weapons. She'd made them with her own two hands. And she knew that she could wield them with every last ounce of her strength and they could take the punishment. Xellos, she was sure, couldn't say the same about his outsourced weaponry.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Xellos warned quietly into her ear. Likely he was unintelligible to the rest of the crowd over Filia's groans of effort.

But Filia didn't care. A burst blood vessel would be worth it. Anything would be worth it to win.

She let out one finally screech—one final push—and _snap!_ The thinner material of Xellos's mace caved to the pressure, sending the spiked ball at the end flying into the crowd, narrowly missing striking a spectator. The sudden lack of force to push against sent Filia toppling into Xellos, knocking him over onto the ground.

The crowd, a fair-weather one if Filia had ever seen one, broke into cheers.

Filia lifted her head with a wince. It had whacked into something hard—in all probability, Xellos's head. She looked down at him—for the moment, pinned under her weight. He seemed surprisingly unruffled despite the loss and despite the fall, but his hair was fanned out awkwardly as he looked directly up at her. It made him look so delightfully stupid that Filia was loath to move out of the way and let him up immediately.

"You're not a salesman, but I've got to admit you're a pretty good blacksmith," Xellos commented lightly.

Filia grit her teeth. Why did he have to be such a graceful loser? She didn't even get to see him disappointed and it took a lot of the fun out of the rare times she managed to one-up him.

"Don't even think about going back on our deal, Xellos," she warned, just itching to have a reason to put her (you'll notice still intact) mace to use on him. "You _will_ close your shop now, right?"

He sighed. "I suppose I'm obliged to. I won't be your business rival anymore, if that's how you want it."

"Good," Filia said, a genuine smile on her face for the first time in more than a week.

He smiled back at her, his hair still spread out all around him like a ridiculous purple mane. With an unwelcome tingle down her spine she suddenly realized how… precarious their positions must have looked and scrambled off of him—brushing herself off as she stood and trying her best to look ladylike. He rose more slowly, as though disappointed to be unpinned.

Jillas took this opportunity to redeem his name in the "hawking of wares" department. "Come on in everyone!" he cried, strutting over to the door of the shop. "And you can get the same type o' mace you just saw the boss win with!"

The throng liked this idea very much and rushed past Filia and Xellos to snatch up such proven equipment for themselves. Filia only hoped that she had enough of that particular model in stock.

Xellos looked over his shoulder to his now closed shop with a slight air of regret. "Well, it seems that I'm stuck with a great deal of merchandise that I'm no longer allowed to sell here," he said. He turned back to Filia. "I don't suppose that you might…"

"I'll take them off your hands—the maces at least," Filia said, but her tone was far short of magnanimous. In fact, there was an unsettling gleam in her eyes. "_But_ since I'm only going to be melting them down to make something that's actually worth selling, I want them from you at cost—and, knowing you, I'm pretty sure you wrangled a good deal for them."

"…I suppose I have no choice," Xellos admitted ruefully. He opened both eyes to give her a serious looking over. "I should've realized that you're a much more ruthless businesswoman than you seem."

Filia smiled—a weight that had been on her shoulders for so long was now well and truly lifted. There were finally customers again; so many that, by the looks of it, she'd better be getting back inside to give Gravos and Jillas a hand with them.

"If you'd figured that out earlier you could've saved us both a lot of trouble!" she called over her shoulder as she drifted over to the front door of Achaea's one and only vase and mace shop.

* * *

After her triumphant return to the top of the retail food chain, not even bills could sour Filia's good mood. After all, she knew she could pay them now. And, as she stood by her mailbox, sifting through the bills she'd received, she wasn't thinking about how many there were or how she was going to scrounge up enough money to pay them; she was thinking about how blue the sky was and how perfect the last few weeks had been.

"I think I've developed a bit more of an understanding about dealing with creditors after my recent experiences."

Filia nearly dropped her mail. That voice… No. No it couldn't…

She forced herself to turn around. He was back! Not only was he back, but for some reason he was standing beside the mailbox next to her own.

"I nearly thought I wouldn't make my goal after your little upset managed to shut me down," Xellos said casually. "But I was at least able to recoup much of my loss by passing on my materials to you—even if you were far from kind in your asking price. And a stroke of luck selling to a cigar dealer in Ruvinagald made the difference. With the rest of my savings and a little finagling, I was able to make it work."

"Xellos…" Filia tried once she found her voice. "You… you don't…"

"I told you, Filia," he went on with a sunny smile, "I needed the money."

The "For Sale" sign… With numb horror she realized it was gone. It had been planted in the yard of the house next to her own for so long, and now its absence seemed to stick out like an amputated thumb. How had she missed it when she'd walked down to the mailbox? It didn't matter. Even if she'd noticed she could never have in her most paranoid of nightmares dreamt that he…

"I guess what I'm trying to say is…" Xellos began, as he stooped down to pick up the newspaper that rested on the grass by the mailbox. Behind him the house came into sharper focus in Filia's panicking mind.

He straightened up and saluted her with the roll of newspaper. "…Hello, new neighbor!" he finished brightly.


	40. The Past

**The Past.**

In a rush of golden wings, Milgazia landed. The mouth of the cave was ahead of him, dark, save a few fairy lights. But it was the light behind him that was much more worrying than the blackness ahead.

He shook his reptilian head at this thought. The Pillar of Light was far, far away. No doubt the followers of the Fire Dragon King would be looking into the matter with all the vigorous purpose that they were known for. Milgazia could only hope to protect those in his province. The remnant on Dragon's Peak had more than enough to attend to without borrowing troubles.

He stepped into the cavern—a faraway retreat from the bustling, interconnected system in which his community lived. The inside of the cave was musty and relatively bare. Followers of the Aqualord were not much for tools and trappings. There was a bed of soft, dry grasses; a small share of the harvest; a comb from one of the hives his people carefully maintained; a collection of various mountain herbs, tied up in careful bundles in case they were needed; and…

He froze. Speaking of borrowing troubles…

"You know, say what you will about the servants of the Fire Dragon King, they're at least better decorators," a snide voice commented from the darkness. "I mean, I feel as though I should've waited at your desk with my chair facing the window, and then make a dramatic turn as you entered. But since you have neither a desk nor a chair—and not even so much as a window—I suppose I'll have to make do."

The ambient light of the cave fell on his face. Of course he was smiling, but anyone who had a clue who he was knew that this was no cause to be at ease.

Milgazia took a steadying breath and then switched over to his human form. He didn't exactly want to encourage the use of true forms in his current company. He lifted a hand to propel an orb of light toward the ceiling before finally leveling his eyes at his uninvited guest.

"What is your business here, Beast Priest Xellos?"

Xellos rubbed his neck, an expression of boyish self-consciousness on his face. "It's really only a small thing," he explained, his voice a dismissive laugh. "Insignificant even."

Milgazia didn't relax. "Insignificant" just about covered the value that Xellos placed on the remnant in Dragon's Peak. He knew full well if Xellos decided to, it would take barely a thought to kill them all. Perhaps it even took more effort _not_ to kill them.

"I was only wondering," Xellos launched forward, "if you'd ever heard anything about a golden dragon priestess named Filia Ul Copt."

"Not… particularly," Milgazia answered, unable to stop himself from slightly raising his eyebrows. "The name Ul Copt is somewhat familiar to me, but they served under the Fire Dragon King. Why ask me? Otho would be able to tell you much more."

Xellos resisted the urge to make a face. The Supreme Elder was many things, but he was not a stupid man. Expressing undue interest in one of his charges seemed like the sort of thing that could have unintended consequences down the line.

"Oh, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd see if you knew anything," Xellos explained in his faux-cheerful way. "She's… been entrusted with a large responsibility that one wouldn't expect to be given to someone as young. It seems as though there's more to this story."

Milgazia hesitated. "What is it that you intend to do with information about her?"

Xellos smiled. "At the moment? Nothing. If you're worried about providing information to me that might put her in danger, then you should know that the danger she's in isn't at my hands… not right now, anyway."

Milgazia rubbed his forehead. Xellos's careful caveats didn't inspire much confidence. It basically amounted to: "I promise not to use this information to harm anyone unless I decide to." But, then again, there was very little that Milgazia could tell him anyway.

Xellos leaned against a rock formation that took the place of actual furniture. "You said you knew her family name?"

"Only by reputation," Milgazia answered. "Bazard Ul Copt was the High Priest of what was then the biggest satellite temple in the Eastern Zone—outside of the Temple of the Fire Dragon King, that is. He was from the more… bellicose wing of his people and proud man—perhaps a bit too proud—but he was known for his fierce loyalty to those he looked after."

Xellos had to figure that the more bellicose wing was made up of warlike dragons who spoke of war, while the less bellicose side was made up of warlike dragons who spoke of peace. "I gather that his pride is what led to him residing in the past tense?"

"Perhaps—but his loyalty was just as much to blame, if not more," Milgazia said, weighing his answer reflectively.

"Oh?"

"A few hundred years ago, a disease spread through a few of the dragon colonies," Milgazia explained, eyes closing seriously. "Very few cases reached the Northern Zone, but I understand it was more of a problem outside the barrier. It was a wasting disease that could take as many as ten years to kill its host, by which point most were more than ready to surrender to it. High Priest Bazard Ul Copt's was one of the temples that were completely overrun. The only recourse available was to send the healthy to the Temple of the Fire Dragon King and tend to the dying as well as could be managed."

"So… the High Priest always goes down with the temple," Xellos supplied helpfully. He cupped his chin thoughtfully. "And this would be Filia's father then?"

"Likely," Milgazia answered. "If so, then she's one of the few of that generation that survived. I understand that the disease would spread to the eggs. Of a large clutch of eggs, only a few would even hatch, and fewer would survive infancy."

"Hmm," Xellos hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose her apparently well-known father, coupled with the fact that she survived a great tragedy in the past, goes to explain why the Supreme Elder might've paid special attention to her training and, in turn, why she was deemed important enough to take charge of a task that someone of her age and level of experience wouldn't normally be assigned to."

Despite his words, an air of unfinished business seemed to indicate that he didn't feel the matter had been explained completely. He shook his head. "No. There's something else. Some motive for choosing her in particular. Something hidden." He dug his staff into the ground and muttered thoughtfully to himself, "Why hadn't I heard about her before this?"

Milgazia narrowed his eyes in critical surprise. He, a prominent leader in the dragon race, hadn't heard of Filia. What notoriety could she possibly have had to make Xellos surprised that the name of one priestess among thousands had failed to reach him?

"…Why would you have?"

Xellos threw him a sharp look. "She is…" He paused, as though struggling to find the right word. "…Unexpected."

"Unexpected?" Milgazia repeated. "In what way?"

Xellos cleared his throat awkwardly. "In nearly every way I've discovered… and most likely a few more that I've yet to uncover."

Something about the way he'd said it left Milgazia unsettled. What's more, it only raised further questions. "So from that I take it that you've already spoken to her?"

"Oh yes," Xellos answered, as though he thought he'd already made that obvious. "On several occasions now."

It was as he thought. So why, if he'd already made contact with this priestess he needed to gather information on, was he going to such a tertiary source? "Couldn't you simply ask her for the information you require?"

A pained expression crossed Xellos's face. "You really _haven't_ heard anything about her, have you?" he deduced heavily. "She'd become immediately suspicious and refuse to answer anything I asked."

That didn't pass the sniff test. _Of course_, she'd be suspicious about a monster suddenly inquiring into her past and her personal attributes. Suspicion is a reasonable reaction when Xellos asks you pretty much anything. _Milgazia_ was incredibly suspicious, in a heightened, hairs on the back of the neck standing up kind of way. But since when did that matter? As for refusing to answer, well… that was dangerous. As long as his questions were polite and simple, it was for the best to follow through. There was some information worth dying for, but that was just it: you would die for it.

Far be it from Milgazia to tell a monster how to accomplish by intimidation. He certainly didn't want to say: "Have you tried threatening the lives of her and everyone she's ever loved? That usually works on me." But… at the same time, well…

"She's very disrespectful," Xellos added, sensing that his explanation left something to be desired. "It's one of the unexpected things about her."

"So you've chosen to respect the fact that she's disrespectful?"

Xellos scratched at his cheek abashedly. "I'm not sure I would've put it quite that way."

He sighed to himself. "Well, I suppose the information about her father is a bit of a new piece. I'll have to investigate further to find the rest. I wonder if the Supreme Elder keeps any files on his subordinates," he added to himself. "They are clerical—in more ways than one. At least they're more prone to record-keeping than your people."

He snapped his fingers and pointed at Milgazia. "Which reminds me: before I go, I _was_ serious about the lack of furniture in here. Just something to keep in mind."

And with that, he was gone. Milgazia let out a breath, but admittedly Xellos had undercut much of his usual aura of menace. He'd seemed oddly… muddled.

Whatever the specifics, one thing seemed to be clear: this Filia seemed to have managed an incredibly rare feat. Perhaps the ability to accomplish that, more than any strange and surprising quirks of personality or triumph through past adversity or endearing insolence, was what made her a worthy steward of this large responsibility that had apparently been placed on her shoulders.

She'd managed to get one over on Xellos.


End file.
